


Two Steps from Hell

by unholyseraphs (oncharredwings)



Series: Bad Blood [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Class Differences, Class Issues, Conspiracy, Drug Use, Dystopia, F/M, Flashbacks, Imperfect/Perfect AU, M/M, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Scarification, Scars, Slavery, Torture, caste systems, servitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/unholyseraphs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is split up into two caste systems: Perfect and Imperfect. If you are Perfect, then your life is literally perfection - there is no disease, no war, no hard work, no bad things. If you are Imperfect, then your life is more true to normalcy - poverty, war, disease, imperfections... and a defining scar that is given to you at the age of 16 during the Choosing. Once chosen, the Imperfect will be chosen again by a Perfect family to serve... if you are not picked to serve anyone, you become Nothing and you go Nowhere, out into the Wilds. Dean Winchester believes he will be Chosen as Perfect, since his best friend, Castiel Novak, is going to be Chosen as Perfect too. Why wouldn't he? However, his dreams and life is shattered when on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he is Chosen to be Imperfect and scarred on his face. As the story unravels, so will Dean's and Castiel's past, revealing that Dean's Choosing did not go as originally planned, and how one woman has been trying to cover up the evidence for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I think I finally got over my writer's block yaaaay 
> 
> Enjoy :) This was inspired by an AU prompt I saw floating around somewhere on tumblr. Thanks to my lovely beta, [Katy](http://dandelionwhiskey.tumblr.com/)

 

The streets of the city were empty save for the few who were walking toward The Solarium with its glass windows that reflected the sunny sky dappled with white, fluffy clouds. Trees wrapped in metal skirts filled the sidewalks, shop windows perfected and so pristine they were like mirrors. Dean walked along with his brother Sam toward the doors, his heart pounding nervously. Their mother and father walked behind them, their faces solemn while Dean looked on with smiles.

 

He had never been to the Perfect side of the world. It truly was as its name suggested- every lawn manicured, every house beautiful and made of the best materials, everyone smiled and no one was marred by dirt or scars. Dean walked with his head held high, wondering if Castiel would also be at the Trial today, since he was also turning sixteen tomorrow. Honestly, he wanted his family to walk _faster_ \- today was _the_ day, and they were acting afraid.

 

Surely, he would be Chosen to be Perfect.

 

His parents were both Imperfects but they had always assured him that he was different. Not to mention his best friend came from a whole line of Perfects. Castiel Novak and the Novak family were well-known on this side. Castiel’s mother and grandmother were large personalities in the community and so was his eldest brother Michael. The only Novak named _Imperfect_ was Lucifer - no one talked about him much. Castiel missed him but he was never allowed to talk about it, but sometimes he talked to Dean about his lost brother.

 

Dean felt sorry for Cas. He would have hated to lose Sam, but he supposed his family were going to lose him today, but for the better rather than the worse. He would not have to serve a family of Perfects like his parents did all of their lives. They wanted better for him and in all honesty, he wanted better for himself. The Solarium glinted in the sunlight as they walked inside, almost winking at Dean as he smiled at the receptionist behind a large desk.

 

“Dean Winchester,” he said.

 

“Oh… yes.” The woman turned her nose up immediately at his parents, which was to be expected. They were Imperfects, he and Sam were Neutrals, as all children were until they turned sixteen. “I’m sorry, but your parents must wait here.”

 

He nodded in understanding before slowly turning around and looking up at his mother, her eyes swimming with tears. He flinched - he did not like to see her so sad. “It’ll be okay, Mama. I’m sure they’ll name me Perfect, just like Cas. You’ll see.”

 

“We love you no matter _what_ happens, Dean,” his mother whispered, cupping his face in her shaking hands. She gave him a shaky smile and he returned it with one full of confidence.

 

“Thanks Mama.” Pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek, Dean turned and followed the woman as she led him up to an elevator made of glass. He could see all the way around and as they went up, it became disorienting. Heights had never been his strong suit.

 

“Are you nervous?” she asked him, still staring straight ahead.

 

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I am.”

 

She glanced back at him, her face so beautiful it made him blink in surprise. She had no flaws or imperfections, it was if she were made of porcelain. Her red hair tied back in a tight bun, Dean began to wonder if that was what kept her face from having wrinkles. When she smiled it felt wrong, too perfect to be real. “Don’t be,” she said. “Everything will be just fine.”

 

“Yeah…” Dean muttered before following her out of the elevator as it came to a stop. The windows on his left allowed the sun to shine into the building, warming the area to the point where Dean could feel his neck and pits starting to sweat. He hoped that didn’t lower his chances of being Chosen as Perfect. He _needed_ to be Perfect.

 

Perfects were allowed to choose the Imperfects who served them, and Dean was already planning on making a deal with the family who had his parents. If he could name his parents as the people who would serve him, then they could finally live the life they deserved. No more shitty apartment, no more back-breaking jobs, they could live a life of luxury at last. No one could tell him what to do with his Imperfects as long as he did not have a romantic relationship with them, and since they were his parents, _that_ wouldn’t be happening.

 

Imperfects and Perfects were forbidden to have romantic or sexual relationships.

 

But everyone knew that a lot of Imperfects were sexually abused by their owners. It was just a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ sort of policy. Dean remembered when his father had almost gone to jail because he had tried to kill the man who had touched his mother wrongly once. His father had cut off the man’s hand, and he had never touched his mother again. Of course, they had lost their good reputation and their privileges too, which had landed them in the Ghettos. His parents had not been able to stop fighting then.

 

In just a few minutes however, their lives would change. He would be _Chosen_ at long last, and he and Castiel could have houses right next to each other, which was also in The Plan. Cas had even promised him that if he could not name his parents as his Imperfects himself, _he_ would, so they would still live good lives with the Novaks.

 

“This way,” the receptionist said to him, so he followed her down a hall toward a set of white doors. “You will take a test in here. Don’t worry, it will be easy.”

 

“Okay,” he said slowly. A test? Was that normal? He had never heard of a test being given before…

 

“I’m Anna, by the way,” she said as the doors opened.

 

“Um, Dean.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Right.”

 

Anna led him into the room which was all white - white floors, white walls, white furnishings, and the most peculiar, a white chair that was reclined backward, a large machine hanging overhead. What kind of place was this? He didn’t remember Cas telling him about this room.

 

“Um, what kind of test?” he asked as she led him over to the chair in the middle of the room, gesturing for him to lie on top.

 

“Oh, it’s very simple. This machine is going to read your memories, to help the Judge determine where you belong.”

 

“I-what? I’ve never heard of this-” he tried to protest but she was forcing him onto the chair whether he liked it or not. White leather straps were secured around his arms and legs, keeping him still in the seat. His heart beat so hard he could hardly breathe.

 

“It’s a new procedure,” she replied. “Lie back, Dean. Relax. It will all be over very soon.”

 

Again, he wanted to protest, but Dean held his tongue continuing to stare up at the machine. The end of it was smooth but when Anna walked away and pressed a button it slowly opened, revealing a long needle, which was inching closer and closer to his face. On instinct, Dean shut his eyes, and Anna tsked at him, her heels sounding on the floor as she approached again.

 

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

 

“No,” he whispered.

 

She sighed and he could feel her cold fingers going to his shirt sleeve, pushing it up over his shoulder. He opened his eyes then, turning his head to watch in time for her to sink a needle into his arm. He screamed at the pain it produced, his eyes wide open now. When he attempted to close them, they wouldn’t shut, and Dean realized in horror that he couldn’t move at all.

 

“The effects will wear off soon,” Anna told him, walking over to stand where he could see her. “Relax.”

 

He could only stare up at the needle as it drew closer and closer to his eye, unable to stop screaming as it slid inside.

 

 

 

“Mr. Winchester, are you listening?”

 

When Dean blinked his vision faded from completely white to take in the setting of the antechamber. He was standing before a stern woman who sat in a chair that a judge from a court would sit on. Rather than robes she wore a gray pant suit with a white blouse beneath, her hair drawn back in a tight bun, bangs swept out of her eyes. He recognized her as Castiel’s mother, Naomi Novak.

 

When had he ended up here? What was going on?

 

“No,” he muttered, reaching up to touch his eye. Something had happened to it, he was certain… but it wasn’t sore and he could see just fine. The last thing he remembered he had been walking into the Solarium with his parents. Then a woman named Anna had come to collect him, but he couldn’t remember going from the lobby to here.

 

“Of course not,” Naomi groaned, rolling her eyes. “Most Imperfects do not.”

 

That drew his attention. Dean snapped his head up to look directly at her, his heart thundering against his ribs. Imperfect? No, no that was wrong. It _had_ to be wrong. He was not Imperfect, he was supposed to be named Perfect. Even Cas had thought so.

 

“Imperfect?” he gasped.

 

“Oh, you heard _that_ , well, excellent. I am glad you can still comprehend what you are being told,” Naomi replied sarcastically. “Yes, you have been Chosen to be an Imperfect. Just like the rest of your family.”

 

Dean glowered up at her, his hands clenching into fists. “Cunt,” he growled.

 

The rest of the people in the room gasped, and he didn’t even care that he was insulting his best friend’s mother. No one insulted his family like that, _no one_.

 

“I see,” was her solemn reply. “Yes, we Chose wisely with you.”

 

The desire to scream profanities and tell this woman to fuck off grew so strong that Dean had to bite his tongue to keep from doing so. A woman came up to him and walked him over to sit on the other side of the room with the others that had been named Imperfect. Once the Judgements had all been passed, and everyone was Chosen, the Imperfects would be scarred in some way, however the Judge saw fit. Dean had a feeling because of his outburst, Naomi would be extra creative with him.

 

Castiel had already been named Perfect, he was sitting on the other side of the room looking horrified. Dean refused to meet his friend’s eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead. His parents were going to be disappointed in him, since now Sam was their only hope. He had failed his family, which didn’t really surprise him any when he started to remember _who_ he was after all: Dean Winchester, who liked to play in the mud, wrestle, and chase his friends through the creek - a stereotypical Imperfect child.

 

One by one, his other brethren were summoned forward, and Dean listened to them all scream. Each time he flinched and each time he refused to look on at what happened. The man who cut and scarred them was named Alastair - he was an Imperfect too, but because of his _skills_ he was allowed to live in the Perfects world, as long as he remained in the Solarium and never went anywhere else.

 

“Dean Winchester, Identification Number KAZ 2Y5.”

 

Dean stood up and walked up to Alastair where the man was poised and ready to scar him. The knife’s blade would be dull by now, since he was next to last. Usually, the blade was resharpened, but Alastair did not reach to sharpen it; he just stood there and smiled twistedly. Of course, Naomi wanted it to hurt as much as possible. He turned to face Naomi in silence, his face stoic and cold as a mask. The only time he looked away was to glance at Cas once, to see if his friend would stand up for him, but it was Castiel’s turn to refuse to meet his gaze.

 

He yanked his eyes back to the front again. Of course Castiel would not stand up for him now, they were no longer equals. He was Imperfect and Castiel was Perfect - they couldn’t even socialize anymore, their friendship cut short cruelly.

 

“Cut his face,” Naomi said. “He has such a pretty face, I want to make sure that is ruined.”

 

Alastair chuckled darkly and held up the blade, pressing it right against Dean’s left temple. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

As the blade cut through his flesh, tearing and sawing, Dean did not scream. He held it back, even as tears filled his eyes, overflowing completely, and he was powerless to stop them. Naomi seemed displeased that he did not scream, and Alastair dug into his face more, cutting down his cheek, and along his jawline. The cut didn’t end until the knife slipped off of his chin and finally it was over, but the pain remained. Screaming would have made him appear weak, and then Naomi would have _won_ , and he would not let this bitch win.

 

“Take him out of my sight,” she spat in disdain.

 

A guard walked up and grabbed his arm, walking him from the room to where the others were being held until their families were assigned. Again, Dean did not look up at the others, he could not worry himself sick over them. The top priority had to remain _his_ family and not the others. He just didn’t have time to worry about other people, whether that was wrong or not, he wasn't sure. No one spoke, the silence hanging in the air, with the occasional whimper of pain.

 

In all honesty, he was probably in the most pain out of everyone, but Dean refused to whimper or utter a single word. Strength was important, especially now: he couldn’t appear weak in front of Sam, his mother, or father. He had to be strong for his family. Time passed so slowly, Dean began to wonder if they had been forgotten; his face was starting to clot, but his shirt was soaked in sticky blood, and the pain still made him want to pass out. Even his vision was starting to swim now and again.

 

The doors were finally opened right before he could, and Dean stood up slowly; his knees and legs shaking so violently they knocked together. Someone grabbed onto his arm, and Dean could not help but look. It was Ash, one of the boys he used to play with when they had been younger; he still had that goofy mullet haircut, but now his forehead and scalp were scarred. Ash gave him an encouraging, if not weak, smile, and Dean nodded back at him as they walked out together. It was time to be assigned families. Dean had a feeling he knew where he was going.

 

They all lined up and waited for their ID’s to be called. Dean watched as each kid was sent inside, one by one, each of them returning with stoic masks, their eyes already dead. Everyone wanted to cry but there was no room for crying, not when you are named Imperfect. There is only room for servitude in the face of the Perfects. Dean waited and waited until he was the only one left.

 

“Winchester, ID KAZ 2Y5.”

 

He took a deep breath, trying to continue ignoring the pain in his face, as he stood and walked back into the antechamber. Naomi Novak wore a cold smirk but Dean did not give her the satisfaction of looking at the floor. This gaze he met and held, staring her down; he was pleased to watch her squirm.

 

“Dean Winchester has been assigned to the Novak family,” Anna read off a piece of paper.

 

It was his turn to smirk. Naomi looked green around the gills, her face turning ashen. He glanced over to where Castiel stood with the others, and they met each other’s eyes this time. He had figured he would end up Nowhere, which was the worst fate for an Imperfect - if an Imperfect ended up Nowhere, they were sent to live in the wilds with those who had been Shunned. But Castiel must have saved his ass. He owed Cas one.

 

“I’m sorry… the Novak, family?” Naomi whispered.

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

His smirk turned into a full blown grin and he bowed to her mockingly. “Mind if I say goodbye to my family?” he asked. “Oh wait, I don’t have to ask you, do I?” He turned to face Cas. “Cas?”

 

Castiel blushed, ducking his head in embarrassment at being called out, nodding. “Of course,” he muttered.

 

“Thanks, Cas.”

 

“You will address him as Mr. Novak,” Naomi snapped. “ _You_ are no longer on first name basis.”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, slowly turning to head back down to the elevator.

 

“Whip him!” Naomi screeched, which made him pause. “He has been disobedient already, _whip_ him. Do not make me repeat myself, for God’s sake.”

 

Dean froze, slowly turning around to look to Castiel for help. Surely, Cas could tell them _no_ , and end this whole scene. A large guard approached then, a long black, barbed whip in hand; he had seen those used before in the Ghettos. They caught and tore the flesh badly to cause major bleeding, and from the screaming, Dean imagined it hurt badly. “Cas-”

 

“Lash him,” Naomi snarled.

 

The guard grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around to land on his knees. Instinctually, he began to crawl away, trying to run away from the threat, but then the whip struck home, and he almost screamed. The barbs cut into his back like butter, tearing flesh away from bone. By the third strike he finally screamed, unable to stop. His arms gave out by the fifth strike, and he weakly covered the back of his neck and head, sobbing and screaming with each new strike.

 

Ten.

  
Naomi did not stop the man until he had been whipped ten times, blood running off of him in thick and sticky rivulets. He would not be walking downstairs to say goodbye to his family now. Naomi’s cold voice rang across the room, clear as day before he blacked out, “Welcome to the Novak family, Dean Winchester.”

 


	2. Dean

Snow drifted down in swirls as Dean walked up to the gate of the Ghetto, his face stern and cold. The Guards at the barbed wired fence glanced at him as he walked up, his boots crunching on the slush and ice. The guard at the front frowned as he approached, but he held up a pink slip of paper, signed by one Castiel Novak; it was his permission slip. to show that he was allowed to be here.

 

“Novak, huh?” the man asked.

 

“Yep,” he replied coldly.

 

Ten years he had served the Novak family since that fateful day on the eve of his sixteenth birthday. He was now twenty-six and he was still in their clutches. Most Perfects traded Imperfects back and forth over the years, but Dean had never been traded. Naomi kept her claws dug in as deeply as she could, and the only reason he had been allowed to leave today, was because it was a special circumstance. The gate squealed as it was rolled open, and Dean continued to stare straight ahead.

 

“Be careful in there.”

 

Dean looked over at him. “Yeah,” he muttered before heading through. The streets were empty since guards had taken to patroling at all hours of the day, since the crime rate was so high in this part of the city, they had no choice. Especially if they didn’t want the people to riot. The air was filled with smoke, smelling of disease and infection; it made Dean’s stomach twist into knots.

 

The Winchester family lived on at the back of the Ghetto toward the rear fence in a shack - seriously, Dean refused to call it a house. It wasn’t big enough nor was it insulated enough to be a house. Dean shoved his fingers in his pockets, glad that the Novaks didn’t mind if he grew the hair on his face out; it kept his face warm against the chill in the air. On the way, Dean passed the Market, which was mostly empty, save for a few old women trying to sell what passed for soup in this part of town. The smell emanating from the pots made him want to throw up, but Dean continued onward, ignoring their pleading stares.

 

It wasn’t as if he had any money on his anyway. Imperfects were not allowed to carry money unless they were running errands. The houses lining the streets were not really houses, each shack and shanty barely held up by the one next to it, some families leaving under lean-tos and nothing else. People remained hidden as best they could, trying to keep away from the Guards that walked about. Dean didn’t blame them; every Guard he had ever met had been an asshole, and easy to anger to boot. Alastair had given his identifying scar, but his body was covered in scars from lashings given by Guards.

 

Speaking of, Dean could see a small group ahead, blocking the way to the road he needed to take. He groaned inwardly; figures a troop of Guards would be in his way this morning. Ducking his head, Dean kept walking, hoping they would not bother him if he did not bother them, which was usually the law of the jungle in his usual neighborhood, but the Ghettos were different.

 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?”

 

Dean stopped, slowly turning to look at the men who addressed him. He didn’t recognize any of them, which would either aid or hinder him greatly, there was no in between. “Just heading up to the Winchester place. It’s my Mom’s birthday, and I haven’t seen her in ten years, so-”

 

“Winchester?”

 

“Yeah. I’m Dean, I’m their son…”

 

The Guards all exchanged glances and Dean did not like the look on their faces. “That place burned down son, about a month ago.”

 

The words struck him hard and fast, and before he could think anything else, Dean took off down the road in a dead run. The Guards called after him, but he didn’t stop. He tore past the trees until he finally came to the blackened rubble that used to be his home, breathing heavily through his nose. Tears immediately gathered in his eyes, but Dean held them at bay. Crying had not been an option in ten years, he sure as hell was not going to start now.

 

There was nothing left except a pile of rubble, and Dean had no idea where his family could be. Had they been in the house? Sammy too? Were they all dead? Was he an orphan?

 

“Kid?”

 

Dean spun around, slowly relaxing when he saw it was one of the Guards, an older, grizzled man with a beard. “What happened?” he whispered.

 

“Dunno,” he said with a sad shrug. “No one does… and no one is gonna care to find out either.”

 

“What about the family that was living here?” he gasped, refusing to believe that his parents and his brother were all dead.

 

“Haven’t seen the Winchesters ever since… I’m real sorry, Kid. There ain’t much we can do.”

 

“What about Sam? He’s twenty-two, he should have been Chosen, given to a family-” The man shrugged helplessly, and Dean could only stammer in return. A wave of pain struck his chest, and he gasped, slowly falling to his knees. There was no time for crying, but that didn’t stop the tears this time. Birds resting in the trees took to the sky when Dean screamed in anguish. He held his face and screamed, turning to look at the mess that had been his family’s home.

 

He hadn’t been here because Naomi Novak hadn’t been able to send him away, but he also hadn’t been here because she hadn’t been able to send him away, and had to keep him on her property. Ten years had passed and he had not been allowed to leave, but after finally proving himself to be somewhat trustworthy, he had been allowed to come visit his mother on her birthday… but it was too late. They were dead. He had to accept that fact or he would drive himself insane trying to figure out what had happened to them.

 

“You gonna be okay?” the Guard asked him.

 

Dean glanced up at the man; he didn’t seem like the other assholes he had met over the years. “What’s your name?”

 

“Bobby.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Bobby.” He stood up and dusted his jeans off.

 

“You gonna be okay?” Bobby repeated.

 

Once more, Dean glanced back at the ruin that was once his family’s world. Okay was relative, and Dean hadn’t been okay in ten years. He turned haunted eyes back on Bobby, shaking his head no without saying a word. Bobby stared back at him with the same expression, that thousand year look. Dean knew that pain, that trauma. The snow continued to fall as Dean walked back down the road, hands shoved in his pockets, and head ducked down. It was time to return to Hell.

 

 

 

“You’re home early,” Castiel remarked as Dean walked through the front gate.

 

He chose to say nothing, still keeping his head down, walking passed Castiel toward his own entrance. He went through the back, to where the kitchens were, since most of the work he did for the Novaks was labor intensive. He was much stronger than the other Perfects, and he worked out in the sun all day, his skin tanned and leathery from all of the work he had done in the summer months over the years.

 

The closet he called home welcomed him, and Dean did have to hand it to the Novaks, he was at least given a mattress, which was actually quite comfortable. Better than the ground he had slept on back home in the Ghetto. The jacket he wore was heavy with the snow that had soaked through so he hung it up on the back of the door, and quickly stripped out of his shirt as well, looking for a clean one, which there weren’t any, so he settled for one that was dry and didn’t smell too terribly.

 

“Dean?”

 

Continuing to ignore Cas was stupid but he did anyway. Instead, Dean focused on redressing in warmer clothes, sitting on the bed to remove his boots so he could put on new socks that were not soaked through. The snow had picked up so badly on the way over that he had been blinded by the blizzard more than once, almost running off the road and into ditches several times.

 

“Dean!”

 

“What?” he sighed.

 

“You were quick, why were you so quick? Did they not let you into see your mother, because I can return with you if need be,” Castiel said sternly.

 

“No, they let me in.” Dean pulled on a new pair of jeans, zipping them up promptly. There, he was no redressed and dry.

 

“Then why are you home so-”

 

“Because,” he snapped, turning to face Castiel with pain in his eyes. “My family is dead.”

 

“Dead?” Castiel gasped. “That-that’s impossible-”

 

“A fire burned down their entire house, so yeah, I think it’s possible, _Mr. Novak_.”

 

“Dean, I didn’t know!” Castiel gasped in horror. “I had no idea!”

 

He shook his head, stepping around Cas to head to the kitchens. “Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

 

“What? Are you saying I had your family _murdered_?!” Castiel followed him, coming to stand right next to him, even if his mother frowned upon him even coming into the kitchens for a snack, let alone standing right next to Dean as he worked.

 

“Not you, your mother.”

 

“Even my mother isn’t that awful-”

 

Dean turned his face on Castiel, allowing him to have a full look at the puckered scar that ran down the entire right side of his face to his chin. “Oh, she isn’t, is she?”

 

“I-... Dean, I will get to the bottom of this, I _swear_. Perhaps it was just an accident, are you sure they are all gone? Do you know for certain?”

 

“No,” he admitted, “but I’m going to keep telling myself that they are dead so I don’t lose my mind, sound okay with you?” He didn’t mean to snap at Castiel, since it wasn’t really fair of him, but Cas was the only one within snapping distance. And he wouldn’t put it past Naomi to have his entire family killed.

 

“I will send out an Inquiry immediately,” Castiel promised. “I swear it.”

 

He nodded, even though he knew that no one actually gave a damn about a family of Imperfects. Not even other Imperfects. But Castiel’s gesture was kind all the same. A long sigh escaped his lungs and he turned to look at Cas directly, wanting to cup Castiel’s face with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t. Castiel was Perfect, and he was not. They could not be in a romantic relationship, no matter how much each of them wanted to be.

 

“We will find out what happened to your family Dean, one way or another.”

 

Castiel was so confident that Dean couldn’t help but relinquish a small smile. If anyone could find out what had happened to his family, Cas could, so Dean decided to put his last bit of faith into his friend. “Thanks, Cas.”

 

“You are most welcome, Dean.”

 

Turning back to his work, Dean grabbed the butcher knife so he could start cutting up the meat on the counter. Chopping something to bits seemed like a highly therapeutic way to ease himself through his loss. Not as good as chopping through Naomi Novak,, but that day was yet to come.

 

Eventually.

 

 

 

“This tastes horrid.”

 

Dean did not look up from where he stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of him, while Naomi and her family ate their dinner. She had taken a bite of the lamb he had made, and turned her nose up at it. Somehow, he was not surprised, since she loved making his life as hellish as possible.

 

“Who made this?”

 

Dean tried not to sigh but a tiny one escaped. “I did, Ma’am.”

 

“Of _course_ you did,” Naomi drawled, shoving the plate away. “It’s disgusting, take it away.”

 

“It’s not that bad, Mother,” Castiel spoke up in Dean’s defense, as he stepped forward to claim Naomi’s plate. “I find it delicious… very woodsy, I like that.”

 

“It tastes like a smokehouse,” she replied angrily.

 

Dean picked up the plate and as he turned to go back to the kitchen, he tripped on something. A curse slid out of his mouth as he smacked into the ground, the plate shattering. Naomi screamed at him, calling him a klutzy ingrate, but he was certain it was _her_ foot that had tripped him purposefully.

 

“You _broke_ my plate, you _oaf_!”

 

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he muttered, trying to gather the pieces so he could toss them into the garbage.

 

“You _should_ be!”

 

“It was an accident, Mother,” Castiel said, sounding tired and fed up with her.

 

“Where is Benny? I want this boy lashed-”

 

“For breaking _one_ plate on accident?”

 

Dean smiled slightly - Castiel was always on a rampage to try and spare him punishment. It hardly worked, since Naomi always got what she wanted, but at least he tried. Dean was thankful for Castiel’s efforts.

 

“He just found out his family is dead and you’re making his day worse, Mother,” Castiel snapped as Dean finally stood up.

 

He wanted to snort at Castiel’s attempt to gain him sympathy. Instead of lingering behind to hear the rest of the conversation, Dean returned to the kitchens where Jo was standing at the stove with her mother Ellen, learning the tools of the trade. Jo was only sixteen and he had a feeling Ellen had allowed her to cook the lamb.

 

“What’s Princess Pain going on about out there?” Ellen asked as he tossed the broken pieces of the plate in the trash.

 

“She’s upset about the lamb,” he replied, not looking up at her.

 

“Why?”

 

Dean glanced over at Jo, who looked terrified and worried. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I told her I made it.”

 

“But you _didn’t_ ,” Jo insisted.

 

He shrugged with a cocky grin. “So? She don’t know that… and I can handle a lashing, you can’t.”

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

“Yeah, but your Mama does.” Dean gave Ellen a look, and she nodded at him in appreciation. Dean was always taking the rap for things he didn’t do to help spare the others. He remembered how at sixteen he had only been concerned with his family, and he had wanted to stay that way, but after he had watched an older man be practically beat to death on Naomi’s orders… well, Dean had started taking the fall for every bad thing that happened around here. Not only did it satisfy Naomi’s desire to hurt him, but it spared others who couldn’t handle the punishments as well as he could.

 

When he returned to the dining room, Benny was waiting for him in stoic silence. He liked Benny, one of the few Guards he actually did like being around, and Benny always wanted to go easy on him, but Dean never let that happen. If they were going to satisfy Naomi, they had to go all out. Castiel looked pale and sick, as if he were going to throw up. Dean ignored him and removed his shirt, allowing the thin cloth to fall to the ground.

 

Benny’s face remained solemn as Dean lowered down to his knees, slowly turning around to grab onto a chair. He usually didn’t need support but after today, he had a feeling clinging to furniture would be the only thing keeping him upright. The sound of the whip being removed - _shhhhhsitck_ \- made him flinch outright. The barbed pieces would cut into his flesh, and Dean was honestly surprised he still had feeling in his back at all, with all of the scars he had now. Muscles stiffening, Dean braced himself, and waited for the pain.

 

_One_.

 

Top layer of skin ripping open.

 

_Two_.

 

A scream burning in his chest.

 

_Three_.

 

Barbs, like knives, slicing and dragging through back muscles, blood running onto the floor. He would probably have to clean up his own mess.

 

_Four_.

 

The scream continuing to burn through his chest until finally coming out.

 

_Five_.

 

Let this be it, let it be over.

 

_Six_.

 

“Mother!” Castiel screamed, which jarred Benny from striking again and made Dean slowly lift his head.

 

“Castiel, that is enough out of you-”

 

Dean’s body shook so hard it made the chair rattle beneath his fingers, which were  white knuckling so hard he was starting to lose feeling in his arms entirely. He dropped his head down on the back of the chair, tears squeezing out of his eyes as he shut them, trying to breathe normally. A chair scraping on the floor made him flinch, and then he could hear Castiel walking over to him. He just hoped Cas didn’t touch him, it hurt too much to be touched.

 

“That is _enough_ , Mother,” Castiel snarled darkly. “Leave him alone.”

 

Naomi gasped. “Who are you? Where is my _son_?!”

 

Dean continued to shake, even as Castiel slid his hand around his bicep to help him stand up again. With Castiel’s help, Dean was able to stand upright but he could only go a few steps before falling to his knees. No matter how many times the lash struck him, the pain was always awful; vision going white, vomit coming up, world dizzying awful.

 

“If this is how you’re going to be, I don’t want to _be_ your son!”

 

He looked up from the floor to Castiel, where his friend stood above him. For the past ten years their relationship had been up and down. There were times, like now, where Castiel stood up for him, and tried to be his savior. Those times, Dean appreciated having Castiel as his friend, but then there were other times where Cas was more like his Perfect family than others. Usually when around his friends or brothers, Balthazar, Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Adam. When any of them were around, Cas became a dick, who treated him as if he were shit on his designer shoe.

 

Dean hated Cas then.

 

“Get out of my sight Castiel!”

 

“Gladly!” Cas tightened his grip on Dean’s arm and helped him up again, and together they stumbled into the house, which was bizarre. Why weren’t they going back to his room?

 

“Cas,” he moaned, his vision spotting now and again. He was going to pass out.

 

“Shhh it’s okay Dean, I’ve got you,” Castiel whispered.

 

“Cas, I’m gonna faint,” he whispered before he made true on his statement.

 

 

 

_“This is where you will sleep,” Naomi said, gesturing at the space that was no bigger than a closet. “You may go to the kitchens, the yards, and nowhere else. If we want you in the house, we will summon you, do you understand?”_

 

_He nodded, keeping his jaw set and eyes straight ahead. After he had woken up again, Dean had found himself in another all white room on his stomach. Anna had been there to tend to him, her plastic smile on her face. She had told him that once he was fully healed he would be going to the Novak household. Now he was here, staring into his new prison cell, his back still aching with a sting that did not want to go away._

 

_“Good,” she said. “You will rise before the sun every day, and tomorrow morning you will start by cleaning the kitchens.”_

 

_“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered._

 

_Naomi nodded and walked away, leaving him to watch her go in solemn silence. Dean slowly stepped into his room, shutting the door firmly since this was probably the last night he would be given for himself. Did his parents know where he was? Did they know he had been named Imperfect? Surely someone had told them…_

 

_What about Sam? Was Sam alright? Would he_ be _alright?_

 

_Tears filled his eyes but Dean brushed them away on the back of his hand. Sammy meant everything to him, but now he would not be able to care for his little brother. Not while he was stuck here serving the Novaks. They probably wouldn’t even let him leave on visitation. Other Imperfects were allowed to live with their families and walk to their Perfect families’ home, but he was not going to be given that luxury. Not that his mother would want him up before dawn and trekking through the Ghetto and then the main road to make it to the Novaks on time._

 

_There was a mattress raised on a metal frame so Dean sank down on it, testing how comfortable it would be. He had to admit, it was better than the bed he had at home, which was the dirt floor. Sam slept on the mattress, and since they were both too big to fit now, Dean had been sleeping on the ground so Sam could stay comfortable. More tears filled his eyes as he sank down to lie on his side, staring into the darkness of the closet. Sam’s amulet rested along his chest, so Dean grasped the pendant in his hand and squeezed until it grew warm._

 

_One day the Imperfects would not have to live in squalor and Dean hoped to live to see that day. He honestly believed The Fireflies would make progress and bring the Perfects’ world down. They could live in the same type of world Dean was used to, and see how they liked it. Dean shut his eyes and allowed sleep to pull him under._

 

 

 

“Dean? _Dean_?”

 

The world returned in a rush of color. Dean gasped, sitting up in alarm. Where was he? How had he gotten here? Who was talking to him? It took him a moment of being disoriented to gain his footing and realize that Castiel was sitting beside him on the edge of a bed, looking alarmed. He was in Castiel’s room - he recognized it from their playtime together before the Judgement.

 

“Cas?” he whispered. “What the hell? Why am I in your room? You wanna get in trouble?”

 

“I don’t care,” Castiel replied stubbornly. “You needed help.”

 

He needed to return to his room. Shifting to stand, Dean frowned at the restraint he felt in his torso. Bandages wrapped around his chest and torso, constraining his movements. “Did you do this?” he whispered. The bandages felt soft, as if they were made of fine cotton and not the rough linen he was used to. Ellen usually doctored him up with the scraps they had in the kitchens, or sometimes she would bring things from her home to help.

 

“Yes,” Castiel replied. “I did. You needed it.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Of course. You should rest.”

 

“I can’t sleep here Cas, it’ll just get worse for me if I do, and you know it.” Time to go back to his room. Dean swung his legs to the floor, testing their strength by pressing down into the floor; everything felt okay, now time to test it for real. Using his arms as momentum, Dean swung himself to standing up, stumbling a few steps before finally being able to relax and stand.

 

“Dean-”

 

“Cas, I’m fine. Okay?” He looked back over his shoulder at Castiel who was staring at him with so much worry. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Dean, please stay,” Castiel whispered.

 

Dean licked his lips and quickly turned to start walking towards the door. Cas asking him to stay was like a cold reminder of their childhood together; always playing, holding hands, drawing pictures, and Cas always wanting him to _stay_ just a little longer. As a child, he had used to tell Castiel, _“Five more minutes”_ , but not now. The silence that followed answered more for him than words ever could.


	3. Castiel

The area surrounding the rubble that used to be the Winchester home still smelled of smoke and ash. The poisonous fumes clung to the air as if Death himself had claimed the area as his own. Castiel scanned his eyes along the waste, looking for any signs of life or a clue as to what had happened here, since everyone in the Ghetto claimed to be ignorant. Perhaps they all were telling the truth and none of them knew what had happened, but he couldn’t believe that. Someone knew something and he was determined to find out what.

 

“Mister, I wouldn’t stand so close to there if I were you.”

 

Castiel looked over his shoulder. A young man stood not too far away, remaining close to the copse of trees on the road. “Why not?” he asked, honestly curious.

 

“It’s bad luck.”

 

“What do you mean, it’s bad luck?” He frowned, slowly turning to face the young man dead on. Not wanting to scare him off, Castiel remained on his side of the road, even though he wanted to step closer. “What’s your name?”

 

“Victor,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s bad luck to be standin’ there.”

 

“Yes, you said that, but why? What do you know about what happened here?” Castiel tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in a suspicious squint.

 

“I don’t,” Victor replied with another shrug.

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

“Even if I did see something, I can’t just tell you.” Victor shifted from foot to foot nervously. He looked as if he were about to bolt so Castiel quickly spoke again, trying to make the man stay.

 

“Please? I know the man’s family. The Winchesters? I knew them…” Castiel half lied. Sure he knew Dean, but he had never met Dean’s family before. He hadn’t been allowed to socialize with Dean’s parents.

 

Victor frowned, copying Castiel’s gesture and narrowing his eyes. He stared at Castiel that way for what felt like eternity before speaking again. “Maybe I saw some guys come down the road late at night. Wearing all black, never saw their faces. Maybe I heard some screaming, and maybe I saw them stuff Mrs. Winchester in a car… and then maybe I saw them light the house on fire.”

 

“Just Mrs. Winchester? What about her sons and her husband?”

 

Another shrug from Victor. “I dunno about any of them, I think she was home alone.”

 

“And you don’t know who they were?” he asked, finally approaching slowly like he would with a stray cat.

 

“Sorry, I don’t know who they were… but they didn’t look like you.”

 

“Like me?”

 

“Perfects. You’re a Perfect, right? I can tell by your clean clothes and face.”

 

Castiel reached up to touch his cheek, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Sometimes, he forgot that he was a Perfect and not like the rest of the world. The Perfects would like everyone to believe that the world was divided, but it was clear to Castiel and many others, that there were more Imperfects than Perfects. Their numbers were dwindling while the Imperfects numbers were on the rise. One day, they would have enough numbers to take them all down. Castiel feared for that day. He just hoped that an Imperfect, hopefully Dean, would show him mercy.

 

“Yes, I am… _Thank_ you for the information, I appreciate it.”

 

“Don’t go tellin’ anyone I told you.”

 

“I won’t. I swear it. Do you know of anyone who maybe knows who took Mrs. Winchester?”

 

Victor bit his lip, again shifting from foot to foot. “Maybe, but she don’ like to be bothered much.”

 

“Please, tell me who… please?”

 

“Her name’s Jody. She works  at the tavern next to the Market on Sycamore.”

 

“Thank you! _Thank you_.” Castiel fought the urge to hug the man outright, and instead dug around in his pocket to pull out some cash. “Please, for your trouble.”

 

Victor’s eyes widened in shock and he accepted the money in awe. “Thanks, Mister.”

 

He nodded. “It’s the least I can do. Thank you again.” Wrapping his trench coat around his body further, tightening its belt, Castiel hurried on down the road towards the inner area of the Ghetto. The Market was dead today, with no one outside manning stalls or selling products of any kind. His mother would die if she found out he was here; she would have died if she even knew he had come within a mile radius of the Ghetto, let alone gone inside to ask questions.

 

The tavern called The Blue Moon sat in between two abandoned buildings, its windows so dirty Castiel could not even see inside. He was almost afraid to walk in, but he took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The inside was dark and dusty, but not nearly as filthy as he had imagined it being. A woman behind a bar with brown hair, cropped short, stood wiping it down with an old rag. She wore blue plaid, which was quite a popular pattern with the Imperfects, Dean wore a lot of plaid too. There was no one else in the bar, and Castiel had to wonder how much business she actually had come through here.

 

“Excuse me, are you Jody?”

 

Sharp eyes looked up at him, her mouth in a thin line. Distrust and nervousness practically slid off of her in waves, and she even pulled out a gun and laid it on the counter. That made him stop dead in his tracks, remaining in the middle of the room.

 

“What’s it to you?” she asked.

 

“I was told I could come here about the Winchesters.”

 

Jody reached and picked up her gun, pointing it directly at him. “What about them?”

 

Castiel held up his hands, taking a few steps back. “I just-I just want to know what happened is all.”

 

“You a Perfect, ain’t ya?”

 

“...Yes,” he whispered. “I am.”

 

“Why does a Perfect want to know about the Winchesters?”

 

“Because their son is living in my home, serving my family, and he believes them to be dead. I want to help him find them.”

 

Slowly, Jody lowered the gun, still looking on at him skeptically. The gun was safely stored beneath the bar again and she returned to wiping it down, as if she hadn’t just threatened his life. “Talking about Dean?”

 

“Yes. Do you know Dean?”

 

“We’ve crossed paths a few times,” she admitted. “Nice kid.”

 

“Yes, he is.” Castiel dared to approach the bar, cautiously sinking onto a stool.

 

Behind the bar was a dirty, cracked mirror, as well as shelves stocked full of alcohol that looked as if they hadn’t been touched in years, with all of the dust collected on each bottle. There were no decorations on the walls, just wooden slats, and the same wood on the floor. It was like being in a giant wooden box with a few dirty windows here and there, like holes that were covered in plastic so the world appeared distorted from the inside. The light source were dim sconces scattered around the room, barely casting enough light to show Castiel the room.

 

Jody set the rag aside, leaning forward against the bar, meeting his eyes as she began her story, “A few days before the fire, Mary comes in here, all flustered. She asks me if I can keep Sam and John away for a few days. I got no idea why but I agree to it, I owe her anyway… so, a few hours later, Sam and John show up, I take them to the cellar, where they hang out.”

 

“Are they still here?”

 

“The night of the fire, I get some men coming in here, all in black, big guns in their hands.” Jody paused, her face losing all color. “They ask after John and Sam. I tell them that I don’t know anything.”

 

Castiel bit his lip, worried. “Yes, and?”

 

She lowered her voice, sounding afraid, “I get them to leave, but when they open the door, I see Mary Winchester in a car, tied up… I don’t know what to do, so I wait for them to be gone, I go downstairs and tell John. He tells Sam to stay and takes off.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking sad. “I didn’t hear from him again.”

 

“And Sam?”

 

“As far as I know, Sam’s staying with the family he serves. I hope. I had no choice but to let the boy go… wish I hadn’t.” Jody sighed, running a hand over her face. “That’s all I know, I swear.”

 

Castiel nodded slightly, heaving a sigh. “Do you know which family Sam serves?”

 

“No. Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. Thank you for your help.” He eased himself off of the stool and began to walk toward the front door. At least, as far as he knew, the Winchesters could all still be alive somewhere.

 

“Be careful, Kid,” she called.

 

He glanced back at her and nodded. “You too.” When she returned the nod, Castiel walked back out into the cold. He had come to the Ghetto hoping he would solve the mystery, even if it did mean that the Winchesters _were_ dead, but instead it had grown more tangled and mysterious. He had a feeling his mother knew something about this, but she would never talk… however, her assistant Anna might.

 

 

 

Anna Milton sat in her straight backed chair, her spine just as straight, her head held high, and chin stuck out. Her face was unreadable, hair pulled back in a classic tight bun, perfectly manicured hands clasped firmly on the desk. The knuckles on her hands, bone white, were the only outward indicator that let Castiel know she was nervous.

 

“Mr. Novak, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh come on, Anna, you work with my Mother every single day. _Surely_ you know what happened to Mrs. Winchester?” Castiel leaned forward, not looking away from her gaze, holding her eyes firmly.

 

“I don’t know anything, Mr. Novak,” she insisted. “I only know what Mrs. Novak tells me, and that isn’t much.”

 

“But surely you’ve _heard_ something.”

 

Anna’s well-plucked brows knitted together slightly for a passing moment and he almost missed it, but it had been there. “I don’t.”

 

“Anna, _please_.”

 

“I can’t help you, Mr. Novak. I’m sorry.”

 

He frowned, angrily sitting back into his chair. “What’s got you so afraid? My mother? She’s not that scary, is she?”

 

“Your mother is the Judge,” Anna whispered. “If she so wishes, she could name me Imperfect and send me Nowhere. I would be Shunned.”

 

“So you _do_ know something,” he pressed further.

 

Anna’s hands slammed down on the desk, her stoic and perfect behavior snapping for just a moment. “Mr. Novak, you can’t ask me these things. Please leave.”

 

He had never seen Anna snap before, she was usually the poster child for being Perfect, and she was the face of his mother’s domain. But even Anna had a breaking point clearly. “Anna-”

 

“ _Leave_ , Mr. Novak, or I will call security.”

 

Castiel frowned and stood up slowly. “I _will_ find out what happened to her.”

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Novak.” Anna stood as well, walking over to the glass office door and opening it for him. “Have a nice day.”

 

Bristling, Castiel stormed out, walking down the hallway in anger. His mother had done something to Mrs. Winchester and Anna _knew_ about it. Of course she wouldn’t tell him though, he should have realized. There was one other person that he could possibly ask for more information. Frank Devereaux. He worked in the archives of The Solarium and he knew the comings and goings of the building more than even Anna did because he was unassuming. No one believed him to be dangerous or threatening, and because of this, Frank knew too much.

 

Glancing back at Anna’s office, Castiel saw that she was busy on the phone, so he quickly darted to the elevator and pressed the button that would take him to the basement. Keeping his eyes on her, he had a feeling Anna was on the phone with his mother. The elevator took him quickly down to the basement and as soon as the doors opened, Castiel bolted out and off towards Frank’s office. He was in the furthest corner from the elevator, in an office that was literally a hole in the wall more than anything. The door was closed when he approached, so Castiel prayed that Frank was in today.

 

Three knocks later, the door began to open, and Frank stood in its place. The smaller man raised his eyes up at him, blearily behind black rimmed glasses. Behind him, Castiel could see that the office was dark, the only light source coming from a flickering computer screen. “What do you want?” Frank asked gruffly, reaching beneath his glasses to rub one of his eyes.

 

“I need answers and I think you’re the only one who might help me,” Castiel replied quietly. “Please. It’s important.”

 

Frank’s eyes narrowed but he stepped aside. “Hurry up.”

 

Stepping around him, Castiel slid inside the office, using the computer’s light to find a chair that was empty, which was a miracle, since the entire office was covered in books and junk. Frank joined him, sinking down into his own chair, staring at him with narrowed eyes still.

 

“It’s about Mary Winchester,” he whispered, still worried that someone would hear him if he used his regular speaking voice. “Do you know her?”

 

“Dean Winchester’s mother?” Frank asked.

 

“Yes. _Yes_. You do know her… Do you know where she is?”

 

“The Winchester woman is being held.”

 

“Held? Held _where_?”

 

Frank stared at him, his eyes slightly wide. “Why, in Alastair’s jail.”

 

Castiel felt his blood run cold.

 

 

Biting cold air met him as soon as he left The Solarium. The Winchesters were being held in jail and he still wasn’t sure _why_. He also had no way of getting into the high security area, not without clearance. Why would his mother have the Winchesters in _jail_? It made no sense. Especially since the house had been burnt to the ground. The only person who had all of the answers had given birth to him, and the idea made him feel sick. Castiel tore down the street toward the Novak compound, hands shoved in his pockets.

 

When he came upon the gate, Castiel could make out Dean shoveling the driveway. He wore a barely insulated jacket, which made Castiel's heart ache. The gates opened after he put the code in, and he made his way through, slowly walking up to Dean. “Hello, Dean,” he greeted slowly.

 

Dean glanced up, pausing in his work. “Yeah?”

 

“Are you cold? I could make you some hot chocolate…”

 

Dean’s face remained unreadable. “What is that?”

 

“Oh, it’s amazing. Come inside, I’ll show you.”

 

“I’m still working…” Dean tried to say but Castiel grabbed onto his arm and began to pull him along.

 

“It’s alright, I said it’s alright so it’s fine.” He pulled Dean into the house through the front door, knocking the snow off of their boots, and then turning to pull Dean’s coat off, hanging it with the others to dry. “Your coat is _so_ thin, you must be freezing.”

 

“I’m alright,” Dean muttered, his face turning red as Castiel spun around to rub at his upper arms. “What are you doing?”

 

“Friction,” he replied with a warm and friendly smile. “To help keep you warm.”

 

“Oh…”

 

Castiel could see Dean was reluctant, as he tried to pull him back toward the kitchens. Leaving Dean to stand by the granite counter, Castiel slid on tip toe to grab the hot chocolate packets, and then to the fridge to grab the milk. “It’s really good, I promise, you’ll love it.”

 

“Cas, I need to be working…” Dean tried to protest.

 

“It’s _okay_. It’s not snowing now, it’ll be there when you go back. I promise.”

 

Dean shuffled around from foot to foot but Castiel continued on making the hot chocolate. Putting on water to boil, Castiel removed a thermos for Dean and a mug for himself. Then the final touch: the package of jumbo marshmallows. He loved the jumbo sized ones, even if they did take up a lot of room in a mug.

 

“Be quick then.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes and waited for the water to boil, turning around to face Dean, since watched pots never boiled as his grandmother used to tell him. Or in this case, watched tea kettles. Dean did not look at him at all, instead focusing on the counter or the floor. It made him sad that Dean could not look him in the eye that often. “You know,” he said. “I still remember when you’d come over to play when we were little. We used to run in here _all_ of the time. Do you remember?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It was fun.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Screaming from the tea kettle made the words die on his tongue and the smile faded from his face. Dean was a hardened man, not that Castiel could blame him. He faced more punishment than anyone else in the house on a daily basis, he was forcibly estranged from his family, and they could not be the same friends they had been all of those years ago. His brows stitched together as he poured the hot water into Dean’s thermos, watching as the mix turned into the chocolatey drink he loved.

 

“Dean,” he said, turning around, kettle still in hand.

 

“What?”

 

“Please look at me, first of all.” He waited until Dean finally raised his eyes, slowly meeting his gaze, though reluctant. “Thank you… Secondly, I do not see why we cannot still be friends like before. I don’t care that you’re Imperfect, I never did.”

 

Dean looked away promptly. “I do.”

 

“ _Why_? We’re still kind of friends, right? Why can’t we still-”

 

“Because!” Dean snapped. When they locked gazes again, Castiel could see the anger flaring in Dean’s. “I’m not like you, Cas. I’m not meant to be like you. _Look_ at me!”

 

“I am,” he whispered, turning to set the kettle back on the stove, hot chocolate forgotten. “I am looking at you.”

 

“And what do you see?!”

 

Castiel took a few steps, reaching up to touch Dean’s cheek, which made the other man flinch and pull away, his eyes shut in pain. “Two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and pain. I see a lot of pain… I see a man who is only twenty-six but he looks ten years older because life has dealt him something hard to swallow… and I see Dean Winchester, my friend.”

 

Dean’s eyes slowly opened, slowly turning on him. “Cas, we can’t go back to the way things were.”

 

“You told me once that you wanted us to be together forever. Do you remember?” The memory stood out to him plain as day; they had been lying in Castiel’s back yard, holding hands as they stared up at the blue and white sky, watching as the sun began to dapple through the tall, green-leafed trees. Dean had said his name, and he had looked over… it had been like a dream, watching the sun light up Dean’s freckles and his smile.

 

Dean shut his eyes again, brows knitting together, and jaw trembling as he fought tears. “I remember,” he whispered brokenly.

 

“You said, ‘Cas, I want to be with you forever because we’re the bestest friends,’ and I agreed with you.” He bit his lip, gently wiping a tear away from Dean’s cheek as it escaped. Dean’s defenses were cracking, he could see the levees about to break. “I cared about you _so_ much, and I still do-”

 

“Cas…”

 

“What is this?!”

 

Castiel jumped when his mother’s voice snapped across to them, turning to see her staring at them in rage. It was only then that Castiel realized how close they were standing, there was no room between them at all, they were so close he could feel Dean breathing. His hand was still cupping the scarred side of Dean’s face, and he would have continued, but Dean pulled away, taking a few steps back out of guilt.

 

“Castiel, what is the meaning of this?! Why aren’t you _working?_ ” she snapped at Dean.

 

“I was making him hot chocolate, Mother-” he tried to say but his mother was quick to cut him off.

 

“Hot chocolate? You were _making_ him hot chocolate?! He doesn’t _deserve_ hot chocolate! This is the last time you defy me and my orders.” Naomi pointed a finger at Dean, her eyes wild with true rage. “And _you_ ,” she snarled. “I am done with you, believing you can do whatever you like, whenever you please, you _cocky_ , arrogant, _boy_!”

 

“Mother-”

 

“Silence, Castiel!”

 

He bit his tongue, wanting to yell further, but he held back the protests. Dean had done nothing wrong, and he would make sure she understood that. “Mother, Dean did nothing wrong. _I_ invited him inside, he insisted he return to work, _I_ told him it was fine. This is not his fault-”

 

“He will still be punished… and I have the perfect punishment ready for him. There will be no disobedience from him again, _believe_ me.” Naomi turned and stormed away, leaving them both to feel the drop in temperature in the room.

 

Dean looked over at him, accusatory. “I told you,” he hissed.

 

“I’m sorry-” Castiel protested, but Dean was walking out to return to shoveling. He sighed, glaring over at the thermos. It knocked to the floor easily, its contents spilling all over the counters and floor. He didn’t care, not when there were bigger things to worry on.

 

 

 


	4. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, let me preface by saying that I did not expect to receive this much feedback on this fic from the get go, since I usually don't. I am humbled by the amount of comments and kudos I have gotten so far: _thank you_ for reading and stick with it, I appreciate it _so_ much.
> 
> Now, while I appreciate all of the critique and feedback I have received, I think I should address the common issue: Castiel's characterization. A lot of people are upset about Cas and why he has "chosen" to not help Dean throughout his life, and while this is 100% understandable, allow me to illuminate some of my thought process for you: 
> 
> Castiel has grown up in a society that tells him how to think, how to act, and what is and isn't socially acceptable (just like in canon). In the canonical story, Castiel is an Angel of the Lord; meaning he has no real thoughts of his own. He is told what to do, how to do it, and when to do it etc. etc. and it is not until his world is revealed through the actions of others that he begins to flesh himself out as a person and not just a robotic angel. Cas is very similar in this story to his canon counterpart. It will not be until his world is slowly revealed to him that he really _realizes_ what has been going on behind his back. 
> 
> Much like his canon counterpart, Cas in this story tends to do more harm than good while having good intentions. Yes, Cas could have brought the drink out to Dean in the previous chapter, but he didn't because why would he do that? It is normal for him to walk around his house freely, and he wishes to extend that same freedom on Dean, even if he doesn't realize that he cannot. Castiel does theoretically "own" Dean, he claimed Dean, Dean sort of belongs to him, and he _should_ have a say in what happens to Dean, however, Naomi rules with an iron fist, as always. Her authority is absolute and Castiel is not used to thinking for himself, doing for himself, or being himself. 
> 
> I know a lot of people are upset that he hasn't really helped Dean, that he hasn't really stood up for him either, that his attempts are "weak". Let me say this on the matter; Cas lives in a suppressed society. In fact, the Perfects are even more suppressed than the Imperfects. While the Imperfects do not live a "perfect" life, they have the ability to think for themselves and to be their own persons on their own. They are allowed this luxury and Perfects are not. Castiel cannot truly stand up for Dean, and in all honesty, he doesn't really understand why he would have to because of the normalcy he has been exposed to. Does he feel bad for Dean? Absolutely. Does he feel powerful enough to truly stand up for Dean? No. Does he have the resources to stand up for Dean? Again, no. 
> 
> Naomi holds the power. Society holds the power. Castiel is powerless in this situation and I need everyone to understand this. This story is not built around the idea that Cas will be Dean's savior. The story is built around the idea that we have to be our own saviors before we can be someone else's. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading. Thank you for commenting, and I will still gladly read all of your comments and become flustered every time. If I do not reply to your comment, it is not because I hate your comment or that I don't want you to comment again. Sometimes, comments don't really need replies, they're wonderful on their own, and other times, I don't even know what to say for various reasons, but I appreciate all of them. I hope you all enjoy the story, and I hope you don't want to kill me for what you are about to read next.

 

The driveway shoveled, wood for the fireplace chopped and stacked, and the holiday lights strung up above the doorway, Dean could finally return to the house to rest. His fingers were so stiff with cold that even the smallest movements made his joints ache. Stomping snow from his boots, he slid back toward his room, hanging his coat up to dry again, but he had a feeling it would take more than a day to finish drying. It was completely soaked through.

 

“Dean!”

 

Jo was coming up to him with tears in her eyes, and that immediately put him on edge. Usually, Jo and Ellen were gone for the day by now, and here she was clearly upset. “Jo? What are you still doing here?”

 

“You have to come to the living room, Mrs. Novak wants you,” Jo replied shakily.

 

A slow frown filled his face and Dean stepped around Jo, laying a hand on her shoulder to calm her. He didn’t know what was wrong but if it had Jo upset it wasn’t good. When he entered the living room, the sight that came to his eyes made his stomach drop to the floor. “Mother,” he gasped.

 

But she wasn’t _here_ , she was on the television screen. The Solarium’s antechamber was being live broadcasted, his mother on her knees, hands tied behind her back, fear in her eyes as she stared at the camera. Beside her stood Alastair, a gun in hand, also staring at the camera, his gaze cold. Naomi Novak stood behind a podium, as if she were about to give a speech. Dean looked around the room; Ellen was hanging up a phone, her hands shaking, and Castiel sat stiffly on the couch, his skin as white as his dress shirt. Benny stood nearby as well, hands folded in front of his body, eyes staring straight ahead.

 

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

 

“Good evening Cadia, I apologize for interrupting your television programs, but it is time that we show what happens to Imperfects who believe themselves to be _better_ than us,” Naomi said, looking around at a crowd of people who stood before them in silence.

 

Guards covered the entire area, and Dean began to feel sick. Something terrible was going to happen… but he didn’t understand, his mother was dead. The house had been burnt to the ground.

 

“The Winchesters have been a part of the resistance group, _The Fireflies_ , for ages. In fact, it was _Mary_ Winchester who started the movement. Our people have been tracking these bugs down and frying them like the pests they are” Naomi turned her gaze on Mary, her face grim and cold. “It is finally time to take care of a bug problem.”

 

“Wait,” Dean whispered, taking a step toward the television on instinct. Where was Sam? Where was his father? He had never known his mother or father to be a part of The Fireflies… if they had, he had never been privy to the information.

 

“Alastair.”

 

The world slowed down as Dean watched the horror unfold; Alastair pointed the gun at the back of his mother’s head and pulled the trigger.

 

Blood, redder than he had ever imagined, splattered back like paint across the stage. The crowd screamed and his mother’s body collapsed, limp and lifeless, her eyes still open and beautiful.

 

_“Dean… look here, honey. Right here.” His mother smiled and pointed to her eyes, where he immediately looked. When he saw her smile, his own filled his face, and he clapped his hands. “That’s it, such a sweet little angel you are, Dean.”_

 

Screams and chaos had erupted on the screen. Guards were shoving people back, and Alastair brandished his gun at them, as if he were going to shoot more people. Dean didn’t know who was in the crowd, but with the way everyone acted, he figured they were not Perfects.

 

A distinct scream of his mother’s name drew the camera to his father, who was being dragged up to the stage by three Guards. They shoved him to his knees, and Alastair did not waste time before shooting him in the head too. Their bodies were left on the stage, and the camera panned back to Naomi who began to speak again, but Dean did not hear her. Ellen and Jo were sobbing and Dean turned his gaze to Castiel slowly. His friend sat on the couch, tears shimmering in his eyes, like waves on the ocean about to crash.

 

Dean took one step and then another. The world blurred and he grabbed Castiel by the hair and hauled him up to his feet. “This is your fault!” he screamed in Castiel’s face, punching him so hard he felt bone crack beneath his knuckles. More blood, so red it looked fake, spurted from Castiel’s broken nose, his hands coming up to cover his face in shock. When was the last time Castiel had _bled_? Did Perfects _ever_ bleed?

 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean snarled. “You did this! This is your fault! If I hadn’t followed you into the kitchen this wouldn’t have happened!” There tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t stop them this time, and Dean could only pray that Sam was safe.

 

“If you think,” Castiel gasped, “that this is because… of me making you hot chocolate--. You don’t think she didn’t plan this?”

 

“My parents had _nothing_ to do with the Fireflies! She’s doing this to pick on _me_! To ruin _my_ life! She’s already taken my freedom, what else does she _fucking_ want from me?!”

 

There was a long pause and Dean turned away, ready to walk out of the room. He needed to punch something, chop some wood, do _something_ violent. He was almost out of the room before he heard Castiel say one single world. Just one. It was enough to make a chill run up and down his spine.

 

“Obedience.”

 

 

 

_“Stand up straight Castiel, you’re going to keep getting pricked if you don’t.”_

 

 _Dean glanced over to where Castiel was being measured for some new clothes. Some type of fancy dinner party they were going to be attending, he wasn’t really sure. Not like it really mattered for him anyway,_ he _wasn’t going._

 

_“Sorry, Mother,” Castiel replied on autopilot as he straightened his shoulders more._

 

 _“I want this suit to look_ fabulous _,” Naomi continued. “Only the best fabrics for my baby.”_

 

 _Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to polish silver, which was odd, since he was usually working outside, but not today. Naomi had told him that he was to polish every piece of silver the Novaks owned until they glistened, so he had started with the silverware. Two hours later and he was somehow_ still _on the utensils. It was tedious and boring, and honestly, he couldn’t wait to return to cutting up wood, or gardening. Physical tasks kept him busier, and his mind didn’t get to wander then._

 

 _“I don’t know_ why _,” Castiel groaned. “It’s just_ one _party.”_

 

 _“Yes, but all of the best families will be there, and I’m_ sure _you could find a nice young girl to talk to,” Naomi continued, reaching up to pat her son’s cheek. “You’re so handsome, Castiel, you will make someone_ so _happy one day.”_

 

 _Castiel groaned again, rolling his eyes dramatically. “What if I don’t_ want _a girl, Mother, what then?”_

 

_Dean dropped the fork he was holding and it clattered to the wood floor, sounding as loud as a bullet from a gun in the shocked silence. Naomi cast a dark glare on him, and Castiel smirked. He just muttered an apology and knelt to the floor to pick up the piece, quickly dusting it off. What did that mean? Castiel not wanting a girl? Was that even allowed? Probably not._

 

 _“Castiel, that is nonsense,” Naomi whispered. “You know better… You are a_ Novak _, and no son of mine will be_ homosexual _.” She spat out the word like it would poison anyone who dared to say it aloud._

 

_The look on Castiel’s face made Dean’s heart break. The Perfects were never truly allowed to be themselves, not even around their families. Especially when their families were high up on the social ladder like the Novaks. He returned to polishing silver but the air in the room afterward became stuffy and hard to swallow, and Dean could not finish his work fast enough._

 

 

Snow began to fall again as Dean stared at the two wooden crosses he had crudely put together to place in the woods in honor of his parents. The amulet around his neck felt heavy and he was tempted to remove it, looping it around the markers instead, but something held him back. His parents would not want him to be rid himself of something that had meant so much to both him and Sam. The amulet would stay with him, as a reminder of his family. More tears filled his eyes to the brim and the world became blurry and watery.

 

They were gone and Dean wasn’t sure how to cope with the new empty feeling in his chest. If his parents _were_ a part of the Fireflies, then he wanted to pick up where they left off, but that would require leaving. He also wanted to find Sam, who was probably still out there somewhere. Dean took a deep breath and allowed it to slowly leave his lungs, watching the puff turn white in the air, slithering up to the night sky. Naomi Novak would pay for what she had done to his parents. She would pay in the most horrendous way Dean could think of when the time came.

 

“Dean.”

 

He startled, twisting around to see Castiel standing in the snow, wearing nothing but a pair of cotton pajamas. His nose was a wreck but Dean had a feeling that would not last long. Some doctor would show up with a syringe and Castiel would be magically all better. There were no imperfections in this part of the world.

 

“What?” he snapped. “What do _you_ want?”

 

Castiel bit his lip. “I’m _so_ sorry-”

 

“Shove it, Cas. I don’t want to hear it. You _ruin_ everything! You know that?! You ruin everything. The very touch of you corrupts.” Dean looked away again, his fists clenching tightly. “Everything you try to fix, you fuck up even more, that’s just what you do.”

 

“I did not _ask_ for this to happen!” Castiel roared. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen!”

 

“Yeah, you never do, do you? It’s never your fault, even when it is.” Memories from their childhood all came flooding back like a sick horror movie. “You always got me in trouble, all the damn time.”

 

“I was also always there to get you back out of trouble.”

 

The markers were being buried in the snow and Dean had a feeling they would be forgotten one day. Like some strange metaphor for his life. “My parents are dead because of you,” he insisted coldly. “It was your fault.”

 

“If you wish to believe that, then fine,” Castiel whispered back, “but I didn’t pull the trigger.”

 

“I’m getting out of here. If my parents really were a part of the Fireflies, then I want to help.” Why he was telling this to Castiel, he had no idea, but the decision had been made. Nothing could stop him now.

 

Castiel gasped, trudging through the snow to come all the way around and kneel in the cold and wet with him. “Why? Dean, that just makes you look _guilty_.”

 

“Good,” he snarled, glaring at Castiel in the eye for once. “Give me a reason to shoot your mother in the _fucking_ head _.”_

 

“Dean-”

 

“Don’t defend her to me, don’t you _dare_. You’ve defended her your entire life, and look how she treats you! Her _homosexual_ son, she loves to tell people you’re straight, just as much as she loves bragging about how you are literally _perfect_.” Dean shook his head, looking away from Castiel to glare at the trees. “She doesn’t deserve your defense.”

 

“She’s my _mother_ … and I love her, despite all of the evil she’s done.”

 

“Why?! How could you love a monster?!”

 

Castiel reached for his face, gently placing his cheek in hand. “Because someone has to,” he replied quietly.

 

Dean searched Castiel’s eyes for the lie but there was none, just honest truth. It was almost painful to see someone so _genuine_ as Castiel love something so awful as his mother. That love could have been put towards something else, something more worthy.

 

 _Like you_?

 

Dean shut his eyes and yanked out of Castiel’s touch. They could never be, especially not _now_. He was Imperfect and Castiel Perfect. Their match would never work out, it would be  like asking an angel to love a demon. “Impossible,” he whispered.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.” Dean stood up abruptly, ready to return inside. He would leave before sunrise, he just needed some time to gather up his belongings. “Goodbye, Cas.”

 

“Dean, don’t go,” Castiel whispered. “Please, don’t go.”

 

Ignoring Castiel’s please was not an easy task, but he forced himself to keep walking. The sound of the door shutting made it final for him. By morning, he would be gone, hopefully miles away, off toward the Wilds and Nowhere. Being Nothing would be better than being Imperfect. No one cared about the people who were Nowhere, but Dean had a feeling that soon, one day, they would.

 

 

“I’m going with you.”

 

Dean startled inwardly, trying not to show it so much on the outside, glaring at Castiel instead in annoyance. “No you’re not,” he replied. “You don’t belong out there.”

 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Castiel insisted stubbornly. The words rubbed Dean the wrong way immediately.

 

“Oh, I can’t, can I? Why is that, Cas? Is it because I’m yours to command? Because you “own” me?”

 

“That isn’t what I meant-”

 

“Yeah it is,” Dean replied solemnly. “You’re right, Cas, as of right now, I can’t tell you what to do, but one day... one day, I’ll be your equal and then we’ll see who comes out on top.” He turned away from Cas, continuing to shove clothes into his duffle bag.

 

“Dean, _please_ ,” Castiel begged. “Please, let me go with you.”

 

“Why should I? Answer me that.”

 

“Because, you can’t do it all on your own.”

 

“Oh, and _you_ can help me?” He laughed. Hard.

 

“It isn’t funny, Dean! I’m not helpless-”

 

“You’re not going with me. You’re staying here. End of story.” Duffle bag packed, Dean slung it over his shoulder, before stepping around Castiel. “Don’t follow me.”

 

“Dean it’s _dangerous_. You’ll get hurt.”

 

He paused, his eyes turning over the kitchen one last time. It was so peaceful and quiet with no one awake but them, the counters cleaned, the dishes all stacked neatly in their cabinets, the stove pristine, the tea kettle sitting on the back burner, ready to be used for the morning. There were some herbs hanging on the ceiling, drying from the day previous when they had been purchased. The floors were swept and mopped, no dust or snow had been tracked in yet… the world outside its glass windows was dark and swirling in white. Seeing the weather made him pause - would he even last a day?

 

“I won’t get hurt,” he replied stubbornly.

 

“Dean, _look_ outside, you’ll last an hour before you freeze to death!” Castiel snatched onto his elbow. “Don’t leave…. If… if you leave, I’ll tell my Mother-”

 

He spun around, ready to punch Castiel again in the nose. “Don’t you fucking dare, you little snitch.”

 

“I mean it… If you go out there, I’ll tell her, and they’ll haul you back here-” Castiel gulped, clearly unsure of himself.

 

“You piece of shit,” he hissed. “Tell on me, I dare you. You do that, and I’ll make your life a living hell when I come back here. Got it?”

 

Castiel bit his lip. “I just don’t want you to be hurt-”

 

“I’m already hurt, in case that escaped your notice!” They both knew he wasn’t just talking about his scar. The unspoken truth that Dean had been hurting the majority of his life was a cold and evil truth. “I have to find Sam, and I want to help the people that my parents were helping. End of story. I refuse to serve _you_ and your fucked up family for the rest of my life.”

 

“Then let me go with you-”

  
“No!” He shoved Castiel hard, watching as he rammed into the door jamb, his head smacking off the wood with a loud crack. Before Dean could see Castiel’s reaction, Dean turned and walked out into the cold, praying that Castiel’s bark was worse than his bite.

 

 


	5. Castiel

The Solarium did not feel warm, not even with the winter’s sun shining in through the windows  to light the hallways. Castiel stormed down to his mother’s office, not caring that she was probably in some sort of important meeting with the City Council. There were Judgements going on daily, and his mother was always busy, but she _would_ see him today. As he entered the door, Anna attempted to stop him, but he plowed on through to his mother’s door, shoving it open.

 

“Castiel, what are you doing here?” Naomi asked as she looked up from her desk.

 

“Dean’s gone,” he said. “He left before anyone else was up. I thought you should know.”

 

Shock and horror filled Naomi’s face and eyes, even if it was a subtle gesture. She stared at him for a long time, her lips parted and eyebrows creased ever so slightly. The wrinkles that formed there seemed wrong on his mother’s face. He had never seen a wrinkle on her face in his entire life. She darted her eyes from his to the phone as she picked it up.

 

“Anna, have Alastair brought to my office _immediately_.”

 

He shifted nervously from foot to foot at the idea of Alastair retrieving Dean, but he supposed Alastair was the only one to do the job right. The floor felt springy beneath his feet as he continued to shift around. The world outside appeared so _warm_ , it was bizarre, but when he touched the glass of the office window it felt like a static shock. The icy sting ran down from his fingertips to his elbow, and then he couldn’t resist the urge to blow hot air; the window steamed up and he drew his name with his fingers like a fingerpainting. C-A-S.

 

“Castiel, what are you doing? Stop that!” Naomi reached over to snatch his wrist, squeezing it harder than necessary. “You are not a child, you are an adult. Look what you’ve done, you’ve just dirtied my windows!”

 

“Sorry, Mother,” he whispered, turning his eyes down to the floor.

 

“You should be. For goodness sake Castiel, _act_ your own age,” she hissed before going to sit at her desk again. “And _sit down_ , you’re making me nervous.”

 

“Yes, Mother.” Castiel kept his eyes on the windows but he could still see where he had smudged his name onto the glass, even as the fogged area faded. The outside world shone so brightly that it made his eyes tear up but then a reflection revealing Alastair walking into his mother’s office, made him turn in his chair to watch.

 

“You wanted to see me?” Alastair asked, his back straight and tall.

 

“Yes,” Naomi replied. The glasses on her nose were removed and she folded her hands on the desk. “The Imperfect who serves my family, Dean Winchester, KAZ 2Y5, has run away. I need you to bring him back to me immediately. By any means necessary, but I want him _alive_.”

 

“Any means?” Alastair smiled like a child in a candy shop, except they all knew he was talking about torture.

 

“Any means.”

 

Castiel stood up. “I want you to promise me that he will not be harmed.”

 

“Beg pardon?” Alastair said.

 

“Promise me that Dean will not be harmed.” His voice wavered slightly but he was not about to back down now. “I want him returned safely.”

 

“You do not make the rules, boy,” Alastair replied coldly. “She signs the paychecks, not you. I don’t do your bidding.”

 

“Mother-”

 

“He has defied me for the last time, Castiel.” She turned away from him and began to relay details to Alastair about where Dean might go. How he could possibly try and return to his home, or God forbid, the Wilds.

 

“You had his mother and father killed on live television!” The outburst slammed out of him at what felt like a million miles per hour. It definitely caused them both to turn and stare at him as if he had lost his mind. Maybe he had. “You had them killed on live TV and you expect him to act normally?! You’re _insane_ if you think that.”

 

For a moment, he honestly believed he had gotten through to her, since her face softened slightly, her eyes appearing almost brighter than before, but it passed, and she turned to face Alastair once more. “By _any_ means necessary.”

 

Alastair grinned. “Yes, Ma’am.”

 

 

_There were children outside of the gate, he could see them from where he sat on the swing on the front lawn. They were playing some type of game. It looked fun… Hopping down, Castiel dashed over to stand by the gate, his fingers wrapping around the cold, black iron. “What are you playing?” he asked._

 

_“Judge,” one of the girls said._

 

_“How do you play?”_

 

_The girl turned to face him, her smile bright and cheery, “Someone gets picked to be the Judge and then we get to Choose who are Perfects and who aren’t. You wanna play?”_

 

_Castiel nodded eagerly. “Yeah.”_

 

_“Okay._ You _can be the judge.”_

 

_He smiled and nodded again. The only disappointing part was that he couldn’t leave the front lawn, but at least they could all line up outside of the gate for him to Choose. “Do I just pick?”_

 

_“Yeah!”_

 

_His mother did this all of the time, but he couldn’t imagine doing it for real. It seemed too hard, how did she really_ know _who was Perfect and who was Imperfect? Walking the small line of kids, Castiel pointed them out, calling “_ Perfect _!” or “_ Imperfect _!” at random. The kids called Imperfect all looked horrified, as if they couldn’t believe Castiel had named_ them _to be Imperfect. It was a fun game, until he saw some of the kids was crying. He hadn’t meant to make anyone cry._

 

_“Hey,” he said, rushing over to stand in front of the child who was in tears. “Don’t cry, it’s just a game.”_

 

_The kid sniffed and looked up at him. “It’s not just a game,” he replied angrily. “My Mommy and Daddy are Imperfects.”_

 

_The other children gasped in horror because most of them were from Perfect families. They were probably wondering how a child of Imperfects came to be amongst them, like their equal. He wanted to point out they were all Neutral, and they could all be friends now, it wasn’t a big deal… but he was feeling guilty for calling this kid Imperfect. Especially since he had just picked at random, not really paying attention to what anyone looked like. The crying kid was cute, really, with freckles, green eyes, and sandy hair._

 

_Castiel bit his lip. “I take it back,” he whispered. “You can be Perfect.”_

 

_“I can?”_

 

_He nodded. “Yeah! I’m Castiel, what’s your name?”_

 

_“Dean. Dean Winchester.”_

 

_“It’s nice to meet you Dean. Wanna be friends?”_

 

_Dean’s face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’d like that.”_

 

_Castiel smiled and soon the other children were leaving but Castiel asked Dean to stay. “I’ll go see if Mother will let you in to play.”_

 

_“Okay.”_

 

_Turning, Castiel dashed back to the house and into the front door. He almost collided right into Ellen, one of the Imperfects who worked for their family. She had scars all over her hands and a gruesome one on her neck; he didn’t know where she had gotten that one, but he was too scared to ask anyway._

 

_“Easy there, tiger,” she said, catching his shirt sleeve before he could run away again. “Where you headed in such a hurry?”_

 

_“To find Mother, I have to ask her a question.”_

 

_“Your Mama is in a meeting right now-”_

 

_“That’s okay!” Castiel twisted out of Ellen’s grip easily and then broke off into a run again. He tore through the house like his behind was on fire, finally coming to the library. His mother’s voice came through the door, so he reached up and turned the handle, slowly pushing it open. Mother was standing by a table, while some people gathered around her, and on a screen was an image of a pretty blonde woman and a handsome brunette man. He didn’t recognize them._

 

_“The Winchesters have been working against us for_ years _,” someone said. “But they’ll never be successful. Besides, their son is to be Perfect. You already know this.”_

 

_Naomi bristled, clearly annoyed. “Not if I have anything to do with it,” she hissed. “I will never allow my son to mingle with their children. Not on the same level.”_

 

_“You can’t just-”_

 

_“I can do whatever I want! Would_ you _want the Fireflies leaders’_ son _to be a Perfect? No, of course not! He will be named Imperfect, and I will send him Nowhere if I get my way. Anna and I have been working on a new technology, a way to…_ change _the makeup of someone.”_

 

_The young redheaded woman named Anna stood up, she was barely seventeen, but she was his mother’s true confidant. “It’s a new machine that will rewrite an expected Perfect’s child to be Imperfect or vice versa. It can also change memories, take some away, or give them new ones.”_

 

_“It is a new Age, Council, and we will make sure to change it for the better-”_

 

_“Mother?” Castiel finally piped up from the door. He watched as the entire Council jerked and turned in their seats to face him. Mother stared at him a moment, before walking over, slowly kneeling down to his level. “There’s a boy outside, I want to play with him, can Benny open the gates?”_

 

_“What boy?”_

 

_“His name is Dean.” He smiled all big, hoping his mother would agree to open the gates if he looked happy. “Please?”_

 

_“Castiel, Mommy is in a meeting, you know better than to interrupt Mommy while she is in a meeting.” She sighed, petting his hair gently. “Benny may open the gates, but only one boy, understand? I don’t need a gang of children running around my home.”_

 

_“Okay!” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek before taking off back down the hallway. He couldn’t wait to tell Dean that he was going to be Perfect._

 

For two days, Alastair remained gone on the hunt for Dean Winchester. Naomi was worried that he would never be found again, but at five in the evening on the second day, he returned with a roughed up Dean, his left eye black and blue, and his mouth bloody. Castiel had rushed down the stairs and outside, uncaring that he was only in his pajamas. His mother was also outside, to make sure Alastair had indeed returned Dean to them.

 

“You found him, good,” Naomi said, glaring down at Dean, who remained on his knees.

 

“I did, Ma’am,” Alastair replied with a twisted grin.

 

Castiel stepped around his mother, ready to kneel in the snow with Dean, wanting to see if he was alright. “You beat him up?” he snapped. “Why?”

 

“Didn’t wanna come.”

 

Castiel glared at Alastair and then turned that glare on his mother. “He’s home now, you don’t have to-”

 

“Castiel,” Naomi began. She gestured at Alastair who handed her a long knife, its edge serrated and deadly. “I want you to scar him.”

 

“What?” Castiel gasped in horror.

 

“Scar him and prove yourself to me. I’m starting to wonder where your loyalties lie.”

 

The blade was pressed into his hand and Castiel stared at it, his eyes slowly moving to Dean who remained on the ground. Green eyes lifted to stare up at him, and he could see the fear. Dean was afraid that Castiel would hurt him. “But Mother-”

 

“Do it, Castiel, or you will be Shunned.”

 

“You can all go to Hell,” Dean growled. He stood up, ready to walk away but Alastair grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place.

 

“ _Scar_ him, Castiel.”

 

Castiel turned to face Dean, holding the knife up, but the blade shook in his hand, and he stared back at Dean in pain. They held each other’s gaze, as Castiel fought tears, and Dean had stricken fear in his eyes. To be Shunned was the worst thing to happen to someone like him, but he couldn’t do it… he couldn’t hurt Dean anymore. The knife fell from his hand to clatter to the icy driveway, and he shook his head, wiping the tears away. Dean visibly relaxed.

 

“I can’t,”  he whispered. “I won’t hurt Dean. He’s a good man.”

 

“You are no son of mine,” Naomi hissed.

 

He flinched, turning his eyes on his mother. “Am I being Shunned?”

 

“Yes,” she growled. “You may take whatever you can carry, but after that, I never want to see you again. Do you understand me?”

 

Castiel flinched. “Yes, Mother-”

 

“I am not your Mother, you do not have permission to call me such. Get out of my sight.”

 

Tears filled his eyes as he turned to pack a bag. If he could take whatever he could carry, he would have to pack light. The thing he was going to carry out of here was going to be heavier than any bag, that was for sure. The only things he packed was a spare change of clothing and a canteen for water. The rest he left behind, he didn’t need any of his things where he was going. Dressing in layers, Castiel threw the light bag over his shoulder, and rushed down the stairs, back outside. Dean was still in the driveway with his mother and Alastair when he returned.

 

Dean’s eyes filled with surprise when Castiel walked right up to him and wrapped his arms around him, hauling him off the ground. “Cas-”

 

“Castiel, what are you doing?” Naomi hissed.

 

“You said I could have whatever I could carry,” he growled, wishing Dean didn’t weigh so much. It was a struggle to carry Dean down the driveway, but if he could get Dean outside the gate, then they won the game, and they could go on their way.

 

“Put him down!”

 

Dean grunted as Castiel tried to shift him so it he could gain more leverage, but Dean weighed more in muscle than Castiel did, and he wasn’t as strong, but he started to waddle down the driveway. Bless Dean’s heart, he grasped onto Castiel’s coat to stay on top of him, trying to help by levering himself so he didn’t have to.

 

“Castiel! Come back here right now!”

 

He ignored her, until at last they reached the sidewalk and he could set Dean down again. He was out of breath but at least he had carried Dean out of harm’s way. Speaking of, Dean was grinning from ear to ear in amusement, but Castiel ignored him. They both began to walk down the sidewalk, even as his mother screamed after him over and over. When they were finally out of earshot, Dean began to laugh; the laughter bubbled out of him so hard that he had to stop and bend, his hands grasping at his thighs to stay upright.

 

“It wasn’t funny,” Castiel whispered. “I just got _Shunned_ for you-”

 

“Yeah, you deserve it,” Dean replied as the laughter died away. “You’re a fucking tattle tale and you won’t last two days out here before you want to go crying home to Mommy.”

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

There was a rude snort and then Dean just kept walking. “Boo hoo, Cassie got _Shunned,_  how awful, he gets to be one of us now.”

 

“Why are you being so rude?!” Castiel had to jog to catch up, angry that Dean was walking so quickly. It wasn’t like they were trying to race, why did Dean have to power walk? He was stopped when Dean spun around to face him, pointing a finger right into his chest. It hurt.

 

“Listen here _Cassie_ , for ten _fucking_ years I’ve been your family’s whipping boy, but that shit is over. You’re Shunned and you’re Nobody now, which is what you deserve for being a whiny _brat_. Maybe, every now and again, you’ve helped me out, but you always make my life a little harder, so I’m through with you.”

 

The words were like a slap to the face. Dean didn’t want him anymore, maybe Dean had never wanted him. “When did we stop being friends?” he whispered.

 

“The moment I was named Imperfect, Cas. That’s when… You sat there and you said _nothing_ ,” Dean snarled. “For years you’ve let your Mother walk all over me… and then when your friends came around, you’d treat me like dog shit. Well, those times are over now. You’re in my world, and you won’t like it. I give you two days, before you give up like a little bitch.”

 

Castiel glared at him, angry that Dean thought so little of him. “I won’t give up! I can live like you-”

 

Dean barked out cold laughter. “Oh yeah? You can be an Imperfect too, huh? Well, find me a knife and we’ll see how well you do when I cut you open, yeah? Or when you get sick, I bet you’ve never been sick your entire life. The first time you get a cold, you’ll probably end up _dead_. What about bathing, huh? You ever go without a bath? Have dirt on your body somewhere? No, you haven’t.”

 

For once, Castiel was without words, and he turned his eyes to the ground instead.

 

“It’s not fun not being able to look someone in the eye, now is it?” Dean whispered before starting to walk down the sidewalk again.

 

Castiel followed slowly, keeping his head down. The last thing he wanted to do was lose Dean’s companionship, even if they weren’t really friends anymore. He knew that he wouldn’t last long in the Wilds without Dean. So, he would keep his mouth shut, and his head low, and just hope that he didn’t annoy Dean enough for Dean to leave him behind. They were heading toward the fences that ran around the Perfects’ side of the city, and he could see where Dean must have gone through before… a weak spot in the fence. Beyond the fence, was only woods and areas Castiel had never been to before.

 

Maybe he should have packed more than just a canteen and a spare change of clothing. Dean slid under the chain link easy enough, but he didn’t turn to hold it for Castiel, so he had to wiggle underneath it. His coat caught and he gasped as it choked him. Gone for maybe ten minutes and he wa already doing poorly. Cursing, Castiel fought with the fence for a panicked three minutes before being able to burst free. The woods swallowed him up into darkness and Castiel had to run to catch up with Dean, almost knocking into him when Dean stopped suddenly.

 

“Damn it, Cas!”

 

“Sorry,” he whispered.

 

“Do you have any idea how big of a pain in the ass you are? Nevermind, don’t answer that.” Dean shook him off and continued through the forest, walking quickly, and easily through the snow and unbeaten path.

 

Castiel struggled to keep up, sweating almost immediately as he attempted to not trip or fall every few feet. His boots were not built for walking on snow for long periods of time, and more than once, he slipped and fell on his ass. Dean didn’t slow down, not even when he fell, so Castiel had to scramble to keep up. Breathing was difficult in the chilly air, and even though he was sweating, he was also shivering with the cold. His coat was heavier than Dean’s, but he wasn’t used to being outside for long periods of time either. Dean was so far ahead now, and Castiel had a feeling that he was going to end up lost in the woods. They’d find his body and not even mourn his passing.

 

“Dean!” he called. It was so dark now, that Castiel’ couldn’t even see Dean anymore. Tears filled his eyes and he finally just sat down on a fallen tree, trying not to cry. He was all alone; his mother didn’t want him, his brothers wouldn’t either… and now, even his best friend, didn’t want him. “Dean…”

 

A twig snapped like a shot in the dark and Castiel jerked awake, quickly sitting up. Another twig broke and fear gripped Castiel so strongly he wanted to run away, but he held his ground. It was probably just Dean… finally coming back to collect him. That was all. Castiel clutched his small pack to his chest, staring into the darkness, watching some bushes and leaves rustle. “Dean?” he whimpered.

 

What stepped out of the underbrush was most definitely _not_ Dean. Castiel gasped, pressing back into the log he had been lying beside, his heart galloping. The large wolf stared at him, its teeth bared. As a child he had grown up with no fear of the animals in the Wilds, and he had been certain that animals were more afraid of him, than the other way around, but clearly this wolf was hungry. He could see its bones; this winter must have been rough.

 

Dean would come back… Dean would rescue him. The animal snarled so loudly that Castiel wet himself, his bladder not having the same nerves of steel that he had once thought it did. The smell of urine filled his nose and the way the wolf’s nostrils flared, he knew that it could smell it too. “I’m going to die,” he whispered. “I’m going to die.”

 

The wolf crouched to leap and Castiel braced himself for imminent death. Dean had been right about him, but he hadn’t even lasted two days. It was embarrassing. A yell in the night made them both startle and Castiel’s eyes grew wide when he saw Dean leap out of the brush with a knife in hand, brandishing it at the animal. The wolf snarled and snapped in its own defense, but Dean hissed and snarled right back. Eventually, the wolf figured that it would be safer trying to hunt something smaller, so it turned tail and fled, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the dark.

 

“You came back,” he whispered.

 

Dean looked over at him, breathing heavily, his face still a mask of wild instinct. “You’re welcome,” he growled. “Consider all of the debts I may owe you paid.”

 

“It’s not like I’m keeping track.” Using the fallen tree for leverage, Castiel stood, only then remembering he had soiled himself. How embarrassing.

 

“Whatever.” Dean shoved the knife back into a holster that wrapped around his thigh. When had he gotten that? Another weapon glinted in the dark and Castiel could see that Dean had a gun on that same holster.

 

“Where did you get that?” he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulders.

 

“Stored it in a hollow tree,” Dean replied, already turning to start walking again. “I’ve been sneaking off for years, but you never knew that, did you?”

 

“Dean, you could have been _hurt_!” He had to jog a bit to keep up, since Dean walked much faster than him.

 

“Already hurt,” came the gruff reply. “Been hurtin’ my entire life, what’s the difference?”

 

“What made you come back? If you’ve been sneaking off, why come back?”

 

There was a pregnant pause before Dean spoke up again, “I came back because I still had some weak hope that maybe I could free my family. So, I kept returning to your house. If I kept your mother’s trust, then I could maybe visit my parents and brother. Now, I’ve got no one left. So nothing was keeping me there anymore.”

 

Castiel flinched. Perhaps it was presumptuous to assume Dean returned for him, but knowing that he did not, still stung. “What about me?” he muttered. “You have me.”

 

Another rude snort and a bark of cold laughter. “Yeah, I’ve got a Perfect who pisses himself at the sight of a starving wolf, real inspiring.” The sarcasm dripped off of his tone like acid.

 

Castiel flinched.

 

So, it was _really_ presumptuous to assume Dean returned for him and their friendship. There was not much there to be desired anyway; their friendship was in shambles and broken pieces. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down. At least Dean had slowed down to match his pace, even if it clearly annoyed him.

 

“Where we’re going, the people won’t like you. You won’t know the meaning to the term _Shunned_ until we get there,” Dean said after some silence had passed between them. “Just keep your head down and stay out of the way. You won’t cause any trouble then.”

 

“Why won’t they like me?” Castiel looked over at Dean. “They don’t even know me.”

 

“You’re a Perfect, and  a Novak to boot. No one likes the Novaks.” Dean shrugged, speeding up again as they came to a small encampment. This must have been where Dean stored his stuff. As predicted, Dean approached a hollowed out tree and hauled out a heavy, canvas sack, which he slung over his back. “We don’t rest until morning, so you better keep up.”

 

“How far away is it?” Castiel asked, trying to stay in Dean’s pace.

 

“Twenty miles North.”

 

“ _Twenty_ miles?” Castiel gasped. “That’ll take forever!”

 

Dean laughed. “About five hours if we don’t stop. What’s the matter Perfect, your feet hurting already?”

 

“Why are you being so mean?! You don’t see me calling you _Imperfect_. I just use your name. Not your ID number, but your given _name_. Why are you such an asshole?”

 

“It’s been a long ten years, Cas, I’ve earned my right to be an asshole. You better get over it now.”

 

Castiel glowered at Dean but held his tongue. “You know, I don’t need your help,” he dared to spit, which wasn’t true, and they both knew it. “I could do it on my own.”

 

“By all means,” Dean replied, stepping over a root. “Please do.”

 

Castiel glared more, bristling, and he would have felt better if he hadn’t ended up tripping over the same root Dean had stepped over. He fell to the ground hard, the cold snow burning and seeping through his clothing. He had to listen to Dean laugh for hours afterward.

 

“Can we take a _break_?” he groaned even as his legs were ready to give out.

 

“Cas, it’s not that far away now,” Dean replied, sounding fed up and tired. “Suck it up.”

 

“Please, Dean? I feel like I’m about to collapse-” He heard Dean mutter something, something about _good_ , but he decided to ignore it. “Dean-”

 

“You are so fucking weak, Cas. Jesus Christ.” Dean finally stopped, angrily tossing his back down to the ground.

 

“Yes. Keep throwing things, that’ll solve _all_ of our problems.” The ground felt like a cotton bed as he laid down to finally relax. He wasn’t sure how long they had been walking but he wanted to cry, his legs hurt so badly, they burned as if they were on fire. “Do you have water?”

 

“Not for you,” Dean replied coldly as he too sat down, removing his waterskin to drink from. “You get fifteen minutes and then we’re walking again, got it?”

 

He sighed, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I want to sleep,” he muttered. “I’m so tired.”

 

“You know why you’re tired?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’ve never had to work a day in your life.”

 

Castiel opened his eyes and looked over at Dean in annoyance. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t _ask_ to be born Perfect, Dean. I did not ask for this life. It wasn’t as if I prayed for it or something.”

 

“Yeah, sure you didn’t,” Dean muttered coldy.

 

He sat up, reaching over to smack Dean on the thigh. “I didn’t!”

 

“You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, Cas. Don’t tell me you didn’t want to be Perfect, we all know you did.” Dean gave him a shove, which Cas didn’t feel was necessary. “You were the perfect Perfect.”

 

“You wanted to be Perfect too!” he protested. “You didn’t want to be Imperfect. You _cried_ when I “Chose” you to be Imperfect that one time! So, it can’t be that bad, now can it?”

 

Dean snorted rudely. “I should have known better, I was an idiot, end of story. Come on, let’s go.”

 

“It has not been fifteen minutes.” Castiel watched Dean shrug and stand up. “Dean!”

 

“You keep telling me you’re not helpless, so let’s roll Cas, up and at ‘em!” Dean continued to walk away and Castiel had no choice but to scramble after him or be left behind.

 

“You could at least have _some_ sympathy for me,” he grumbled. Another snort. “You could! It’s not my fault that I haven’t grown up the same way you have. It’s not my fault I haven’t really worked in my life. None of this is _my_ fault. Stop blaming me for something I can’t help.”

 

Dean remained silent for a while, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked. “Honestly Cas, I don’t think you deserve any sympathy. It’s time you wake up and realize how the world really is. You’ve defended your mother and her actions your entire life, and I’m sick of it. You weren’t the one to be punished, _you_ weren’t the one to suffer. That was me.”

 

“I never approved of how she treated you,” he whispered.

 

“You never did anything to stop it either. I mean, sure, now and again, you would step in and help, but you never _really_ helped.”

 

“Do you know why?” Castiel snapped then, sick of Dean blaming him for something he couldn’t have helped. “Do you _realize_ that I had no real power in that house?! My _mother_ held the power, not me! She’s a terrifying woman, in case that escaped your notice.”

 

“Don’t be sarcastic with me Cas or I’ll punch you in the damn nose again.”

 

“The point is, is that I had no power, Dean. I was powerless, just as much as you.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Whatever, Cas.”

 

“Do you not believe-” Castiel cut off when Dean spun around and shoved him up against a tree. The motion knocked the breath from his lungs, and made his neck and head hurt. “Dean-”

 

“Cas, listen to me, and listen to me good,” Dean snarled, pointing a finger in his face. “I don’t care about how you’ve “suffered”. You don’t _know_ what suffering is, and you won’t until someone takes a knife to your pretty face. Okay? Just _own up_ to what you’ve done and what you haven’t. Be _sorry_. Take responsibility for doing nothing, Cas. That’s all I ask.”

 

When Dean released him and walked away, Castiel watched him go, tempted to stay put. Dean would never understand, no Imperfect would. His life hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park either, but Dean didn’t want to hear it. “Remember when I took a lashing for you Dean?”

 

Dean paused. “What?” he asked over his shoulder.

 

“I stopped Benny from hurting you-”

 

“No. You made it worse.”

 

“What are you _talking_ about?I-”

 

Dean spun around again, looking as if he were about to scream. “After you and Mommy dearest left, Benny lashed me. I stopped keep track after lash number eleven. You didn’t _help_ me, Cas, you made things harder, just like always.”

 

He gulped. “What?” he gasped.

 

“Joke’s on you, Cas. Let’s go.” With that, Dean turned and walked away.

 

Castiel watched him go, tears coming to his eyes. Dean was right about him. He really did ruin everything he touched.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Dean

 

The encampment of Imperfects living in the wild came into view as they walked up the hill. Castiel was breathing so hard, Dean began to wonder how he hadn’t dropped from cardiac arrest. It was foolish to bring a Shunned Perfect here, but he had no choice. Cas was with him now whether he liked it or not, so Dean continued onward, making his way down the hill to where the group was living. Over the years, the Nobodies had built their own town, with real buildings and homes. Nowhere near as glamorous as the Perfects’ homes, but it was better than the Ghetto in Dean’s opinion.

 

“Dean’s back!” he heard Ash call.

 

He smiled and greeted his friend with a tight hug. He was not usually outwardly affectionate but the people here were basically his family, and they treated him well. Dean appreciated them more than they could ever know. “Hey, Ash.”

 

“Who’s that?” Ash asked, immediately suspicious as Castiel finally came up over the hill, making his way down slowly.

 

Dean glanced back over his shoulder and sighed as he saw Castiel slip and fall, sliding the rest of the way down the hill. “Cas,” he replied. “Newly Shunned. Look, I know you how everyone feels about Perfects but I didn’t have a choice, alright?”

 

Ash snorted and shook his head as Castiel picked himself up once he reached the bottom. “Kid’s a moron. Not real bright, is he?”

 

“He’s not equipped, I will admit that. Try to go a little easy on him, alright?”

 

“No way, Dean. They torture us and you think they’re just gonna go easy on him? Just because you know him? No way.” Ash shook his head and clapped his shoulder. “Believe me, he’s in for a rude wake up call.”

 

He sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Ash smirked and walked away, leaving Dean to wait on Cas to catch up. He finally approached when Ash was gone, looking nervous. “Took you long enough,” he said.

 

“You walk fast,” Castiel replied.

 

“Yeah, you’ll learn. Come on.” Shifting his bag, Dean led Castiel toward Lisa’s house. She probably wouldn’t want Castiel crashing with them, but until he was given a place to stay, she’d have no choice if she wanted him with her.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I live with a woman named Lisa,” he replied. Dean didn’t want to tell Castiel about how he and Lisa had been lovers once, before she had escaped and gone here with her son, Ben. She denied that he was Dean’s, but he didn’t really believe her. Especially since the kid really did look like him, it was uncanny.

 

“Dean?” Lisa gasped when she saw them come around the corner. Dropping the bucket in her hand, she took off into a run, throwing her arms around him, and pressing their lips together. He grunted and fell back a few steps, only barely holding his balance, but he kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her in return. The feeling of Castiel staring at him was uncomfortable, but he ignored it.

 

“Hey Lis,” he whispered when she finally pulled away so they could breathe. “Still gorgeous.”

 

She smiled and kissed him again. “I missed you. It’s good to see you.”

 

“Good to see you too.” Easing her to the ground, Dean gestured at Cas. “This is Castiel Novak - yes _those_ Novaks - he was Shunned and he’s gotta sleep somewhere-”

 

Immediately, Lisa’s friendly smile faded. “No way,” she snapped stubbornly.

 

“Look, you want me to sleep in there, then he does too.” Dean shrugged. “That’s the way it’s gotta be for now, until he’s been assigned a place.”

 

“He can sleep _outside_ ,” Lisa snarled. “I will not have a Perfect, especially a _Novak_ , around Ben.”

 

Dean glanced over at Castiel, who looked positively offended, before looking at Lisa again. “C’mon Lis, for me?”

 

She frowned but when she turned around to head back inside, Dean didn’t take it as a no. Gesturing for Cas to follow, he walked up the small porch steps into the small house, where Ben sat on the rug playing with some makeshift toys. He smiled at the sight of Ben; even if he wasn’t his, Dean still treated him as if he were.

 

“Hey Ben.”

 

Ben looked up and smiled, jumping up to go and hug him around the waist. “Dean!”

 

“Hey Buddy, what’s up?” he asked, gently patting Ben on the head. “Playing with some new toys?”

 

“Yeah! Who’s that?” Ben asked, his eyes narrowing when he saw Cas.

 

Now that Cas was in their home, it was easy to see that he was Perfect, with his nice clothes, his clean face, and perfect skin. He practically sparkled in a land of the dull, normal, and marred. He stuck out like a sore thumb, and he had no friends here, only enemies. “Cas. His name is Cas.”

 

“Why is he here?”

 

“Because he got Shunned. He’s stuck out here like us now.” Dean knelt down to Ben’s level, hands going to the boy’s shoulders. “He’s a pretty nice guy. Not too smart, but nice. Try to be a good boy, yeah?”

 

“He’s a Perfect, ain’t he?” Ben whispered.

 

“Yeah Kiddo, he’s Perfect.”

 

“He doesn’t _belong_ here.”

 

Dean nodded slightly. “No, he doesn’t.”

 

“Then why is he _here_?” Ben asked, sounding as incredulous as an eight year old could.

 

“Because he’s my friend, that’s why.”

 

Ben paused before pulling a face. “Ew.”

 

Dean chuckled and ruffled Ben’s hair a bit. “Be nice to Cas, ya hear?” He could hear Lisa banging around in the kitchen, so Dean left Castiel with Ben in the living room, in favor of going to join her. “You’re pissed that I brought him with.”

 

“Yes, Dean, I am,” she snapped.

 

“He got Shunned for me, Lis, I wasn’t about to just abandon him.”

 

She spun to face him, lowering her voice to an enraged whisper. “His family _killed_ yours, and yet he’s walking free. He should be made an example of!”

 

Dean frowned, on edge. “Look, Cas didn’t tell his mother to shoot mine, alright? Cas is a moron, sure, and he’s going to have a rough time adjusting, but he’s not a bad person, Lisa. He’s a nice guy. He’s been my friend for a long time, and yeah, I don’t really see us as that good of friends anymore, but at least I had Cas when I had no one else.”

 

“He doesn’t belong here,” Lisa snapped. “He should be off fending for himself, just like the other Shunned.”

 

“I couldn’t do it, Lisa, I tried to leave him, I really did. But I couldn’t do it.”

 

“Of _course_ you couldn't,” she groaned. “You’re too nice, Winchester, much too nice.”

 

He shrugged. “Look, it’s not like I’m going to baby him, because I’m not. As soon as he gets assigned somewhere new, then he won’t be in your hair anymore, or mine. Alright?” Slowly, Dean walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist gently.

 

She sighed, relaxing back into him. “You’re here to stay this time?”

 

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

 

“Good… and I suppose he can stay until he’s been assigned a hut, but he sleeps on the floor. He doesn’t deserve a cot.”

 

“Fine,” Dean replied, giving her a gentle squeeze. “He sleeps on the floor.” He wanted to point out that even the Novaks gave him a cot, but he didn’t want to push his luck either. “Thanks, Lisa.”

 

“Don’t mention it. Now get off me, I’ve got dishes to do, and dinner to make.”

 

He chuckled and gave her one more kiss to her temple before turning and walking back out of the room. Castiel was nowhere to be found, only Ben sitting on the floor. “Did you eat him or something?” he teased.

 

“No, he went outside.”

 

“Course he did,” Dean muttered. The bag on his shoulders felt heavy, so he set it down on the floor by the door, as he went back outside. Castel was standing at the end of the road, staring into the trees. He sighed. Leave it to Cas to be dramatic. “What are you doing?”

 

“What’s going to happen to me, Dean?”

 

“I don’t know… you’ll probably get harassed a lot. Maybe jumped and scarred. You better learn to defend yourself or you’ll end up dead.” Dean shrugged, reaching into his pocket to remove a cigarette and lighter. The smoke bothered Lisa and Ben, so he tried not to do it around them.

 

“If I died, would you care?” Castiel’s voice was so quiet, Dean almost couldn’t hear him, but he could hear the shake in his tone. The worry.

 

“I don’t want you to _die_ , Cas,” he sighed, blowing smoke above their heads. “You’re a pain in the ass, but I’m not gonna wish you dead.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Everything.”

 

Dean sighed, drawing another drag on the cigarette. “Yeah, well, it’s whatever. You can’t take back the shit you’ve done now, and neither can I, so just forget about it. Come inside, it’s cold.”

 

Castiel didn’t reply or turn to follow him when he went to make a slow walk back to the house, so Dean didn’t push it. Part of him felt guilt for Castiel’s new predicament, but a larger part of him, probably the more selfish part, felt joy when he realized Castiel was going to have to live like them. It was somewhat satisfying, knowing that Cas would have to be even lower than them, which wasn’t kind of him nor fair, but Dean felt justified. It wasn’t like Cas had always been a saint around him. He left Cas in the cold, returning to the house to help Lisa cook dinner. Cas could come when he wanted, and Dean would not force his hand.

 

 

 

_“You wanted to see me, Ma’am?” Dean asked as soon as he came into the gardens where Naomi, Michael, Gabriel, and Anna sat._

 

_“Yes. You were the one who cleaned the china this morning, yes?”_

 

_No. He hadn’t been the one to clean the china. Jo had cleaned the china this morning, but she was only thirteen. She shouldn’t have even been_ cleaning _anything, she was still Neutral in the eyes of the law. Which was why he nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. I did.”_

 

_“And you’re the one_ stealing _from me, then as well?” Naomi asked, calm and collected. Dean didn’t like where this was going._

 

_“Ma’am-” What the hell would he do with a bunch of china? He had_ heard _about someone stealing from Naomi but he wasn’t the one doing it. “I-”_

 

_“Benny,” Naomi called._

 

_Dean spun in a circle to see the larger man approaching, his voice stoic as usual. “Ma’am?” Benny asked._

 

_“Lash him.” Naomi gestured at Dean as if he were a pest in her home._

 

_“For?” Benny dared to ask, which made Naomi turn cold eyes on him. “I mean, yes, Ma’am.”_

 

_Dean gulped and slowly began to sink to his knees, removing his shirt. Immediately, his back began to tense up from the anticipation of waiting. The whip would hurt, no matter how many times it was used on him, it would always hurt. He could hear the whip being removed and Dean held his breath, waiting for the moment. Any minute-any-_

 

_“Don’t!”_

 

_Dean heard the whip crack down, the sound cut the air like a gunshot, but it didn’t strike him. Someone else’s screams filled his ears. When he turned around, Dean saw Castiel on the ground in front of him. Naomi gasped in horror, jumping up to scream at Benny for striking her son, but Dean didn’t hear any of it, he could only stare at Cas in shock._

 

_“Cas?” he whispered._

 

_Castiel looked at him, giving a weak smile. “Hello, Dean…”_

 

_Dean turned his eyes on Benny who was listening to Naomi’s beration, before she spun to pick Castiel up off the ground. “Oh honey, it’ll be okay, we’ll have the doctor come- he’ll give you the serum, you’ll be fine-it won’t scar…” she was saying as she walked Castiel away._

 

_Had Castiel just saved him? Dean glanced around and saw the others glaring at him, and Benny looked guilty. Perhaps, save was a strong term because he was certain his punishment was not over. When Benny raised the whip again, he quickly turned away. After eleven, he lost count._

 

“How come you got Shunned?”

 

“I was trying to help Dean.”

 

“You’re not real good at helping people, are you?”

  
Dean snorted as he came into the living area where Castiel sat on the floor with Ben. “What are you two doing out here?”

 

Castiel looked up at him, his eyes panicked, as if he wanted to flee the room entirely. “Good morning, Dean.”

 

“Hey,” he replied, slowly kneeling down beside Ben to kiss the top of his head. “You bein’ nice to Cas like I asked?”

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Ben groaned, as if Dean had asked him to move a mountain. “He’s stupid though.”

 

Castiel blinked, looking between them. Dean tried not to laugh. “Oh yeah?” he asked.

 

“ _Yeah_. He asked me if my Mom was Imperfect, like _duh_. He also asked if we had a bathtub. I think he thinks we have running water out here.”

 

Dean glanced over at Castiel with a raised eyebrow, which only earned him Cas shaking his head a few times in alarm. “Yeah, Cas is pretty stupid sometimes,” he said, slowly standing up again.

 

“Dean, I’m dirty and hungry-I’m sorry if that was a stupid thing to ask, it was just a kneejerk reaction to being these things… Can I not get something to eat?” Castiel asked defensively.

 

“Sure, Cas,” he replied with a smirk. “C’mon. I’ll show you where you can get something to eat.

 

Watching Castiel stare into the river which was semi frozen over made him want to cackle. They had a food line here, where everyone lined up and held their trays, waiting to be served… but Cas didn’t know that, and watching him try to _fish_ in a somewhat frozen river was hysterical.

 

“Dean-I don’t think… I don’t think this is going to work,” Castiel said.

 

Dean covered up his smirk, trying to keep his laughter down. Seriously, he should have done this earlier, this was the best form of entertainment he could think of – it was better than television that was for sure. “Sure it will, Cas, you just gotta _want_ it bad enough.”

 

Cas slowly toed a barefoot out on the ice, flinching at how cold it was. Dean had to bite his lip and hold his breath to keep from bursting into giggle fits. It only got better when Cas tried to ease himself on the ice and it immediately gave way. Luckily, he was only standing in calf-deep water, but the poor Perfect screamed at the icy cold and that was it, Dean began to laugh.

 

“It isn’t funny! It’s _freezing_!!”

 

“Now-“ Dean paused, trying not to laugh more. “Cas, you gotta um-… You gotta reach down in there and pull a fish out, okay? Just keep lookin’ for the fish.” He bit his lip, fighting the laughter back down again. The sound of brush moving made him glance back and he saw Ash walking up to them. He grinned. “Hey.”

 

“What’s going on-…what is he _doing_?” Ash asked just as Castiel attempted to snatch a fish from the river.

 

“Gettin’ lunch,” Dean replied with a wink.

 

“Doesn’t he know that-“

 

“Shhhh.”

 

“ _Ohhh_ … oh man, that’s just cruel.” But Ash was grinning anyway.

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied with a shrug, “but it’s hilarious.” They both began to laugh then as Cas went to snatch another and ended up falling onto his ass in the mud and cold water. Dean laughed so hard his ribs ached and he had to hold onto Ash for support. Cas just glared over at them. “What’s the matter Cas, you can’t fish?”

 

Castiel glowered and slowly climbed up, shivering and shaking. “S-sh-sh-s….Shut _up_ ,” he finally managed, walking over to snatch up his shoes and socks. “Y-y-y-“

 

“What was that?” Dean asked, placing a hand to his ear. “I couldn’t quite understand what you said, Cas. You gotta _enunciate_.”

 

Castiel just glared at him. Dean grinned but it faded away when he saw the hurt in Castiel’s eyes. He watched Cas struggle to put socks on his wet feet, eventually he gave up and just shoved his feet into his shoes, standing up shakily, teeth chattering so hard, Dean could hear it. Ash was still chuckling beside him and when Cas went to walk around them, his foot slipped out from under, sending him to face plant into the snow, which just made Ash laugh even harder. Dean covered his mouth, trying not to laugh as well, but it was just too easy.

 

The automatic instinct to help Cas up filled him but he refrained – Cas had to learn how to take care of himself, after all. Instead, Dean led Ash away. When they were back at the village, he did burst into laughter and so did Ash.

 

“Messing with him, is my new favorite thing,” Ash said. “You’re a genius… and this is coming from a genius, okay?”

 

Dean snorted and gave Ash a playful shove. “I know, he’s like a baby. He’s completely helpless and useless.”

 

“You gonna tell him where to actually get food?” Ash asked.

 

Dean glanced over his shoulder as he saw Cas finally make his way out of the clearing, heading for their hut. “Nah,” he replied with a snort. “He can figure it out for himself.”

 

 

 

“Likes of him don’t belong here.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and continued to eat his sandwich. “Tell me again, Gordon, tell me again how Cas doesn’t belong here.”

 

“He don’t,” Gordon snapped, “and you know it.”

 

“I don’t know what you expected me to do. I wasn’t just gonna leave him out there. I’m not that heartless.”

 

“I don’t see why not, you don’t think he wouldn’t do the same to you, situations reversed? Kid’s an idiot. He’s a grown ass man, and yet you never saw him helping you any.”

 

Dean sighed, slowly setting his food aside. “He tried,” he admitted quietly. “Sucked ass at it, but he did try, which is more than I can say for any other family of Perfects. You’re right, maybe he should have tried harder, maybe he should have done a lot of shit, but he didn’t. I don’t know why, I don’t really wanna spend a day in his head to figure it out, but it’s over. I got some justice out of it.”

 

Gordon shook his head and slammed his fist down on the table. “Shunned ain’t good enough. I want _real_ justice, Dean. Real justice. Justice that’s tangible, justice that I can _see_.”

 

Dean wanted to ask what he meant but Gordon was getting up and walking off before he could, so he gathered up his lunch and began to walk back home. There was shouting coming from inside the hut when Dean walked up to it, and the sandwich fell out of his hands as he dropped it and rushed inside. “Hey!! What the is going on in here?!”

 

The scene unfolding was possibly the most bizarre thing Dean had seen in a long time; Lisa was holding a knife in her hand, Ben was shoved behind her, and Cas was standing pressed against the wall.

 

Immediately, Dean walked up to Cas and grabbed his shirt. “What did you do?! Huh?! What did you _do_?!”

 

“He tried to take Ben’s food away form him, I’m gonna cut his _fucking_ hands off!” Lisa screamed.

 

“You tried to take food away from an eight year old?” Dean snarled, giving Cas a firm shake. “You are just _asking_ me to punch your lights out.”

 

“I-I wasn’t trying to take anything away!” Castiel protested. “I was just trying to help-“

 

“Help? Cas. Do me a favor, _stop trying to help people_. Especially when people don’t _want_ your help.” He shoved Cas back into the wall, slowly turning to check on Ben and Lisa. “What happened Ben?”

 

Ben sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I was just trying to eat my sandwich and he went to take it away. Probably to eat it.”

 

“I wasn’t going to eat it!”

 

“Cas?” Dean said, turning to look at him. “Shut. Up.” Castiel bristled but stayed quiet, so Dean turned to face Ben again. “He tried to take your sandwich?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did he try to eat it?”

 

“Mom stopped him.”

 

Dean sighed and before he could say anything, Lisa jumped in, “Dean, I want him out of here. He doesn’t _belong_ here, he will _never_ belong here. Get him out of my sight!”

 

Standing up, Dean gestured for Cas to follow him outside, which Cas did reluctantly. “The hell is wrong with you? Huh?” he asked as soon as they were outside, giving Cas a push.

 

“I wasn’t going to _eat_ his food!” Castiel’s eyes searched his, looking desperate for someone to believe him. “I just wanted to take the crush off his bread, he said he didn’t like it! But his mother told him to eat it, that she forgot, and she had things to do, and he could just eat it- so I reached over to take the crust off the bread! I wasn’t going to eat his lunch! …How could you think I would take food away from someone?”

 

Dean opened his mouth to say something – _anything_. Tears shone in Cas’ eyes, but they were held back. He sighed. “Because, Cas, that’s how people view you here.” He shrugged. “I can’t do anything about that. No one likes Perfects, Cas. No one. I gotta go back inside.”

 

“What about me?”

 

He shrugged, turning to head back inside. “I dunno, Cas. Figure it out yourself.” He didn’t look back to see Castiel’s hurt expression as he shut the door in his face.  

 

Loud shouts and screams woke him out of a dead sleep early in the morning. Dean was up on his feet before Lisa could even react, but he told her to stay put. He always slept fully dressed, so the only thing he had to do was put his feet into his boots and grab his gun and knife. Had Alastair and the Perfects come looking for him after all? A sick feeling filled his gut as he crept through the house and back outside into the cold, not even bothering to grab his coat.

 

A group of men were in a circle, seemingly surrounding someone else, egging whatever was happening on. Dean frowned and began to shove his way through the crowd, until his eyes fell on where Castiel cowered on the ground, bleeding through his fingers. He glanced around at the others and saw they had knives, some of them coated in blood, Castiel’s blood assumingly. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

 

“Taking care of a pest problem,” Gordon replied, spitting on Castiel where he crouched.

 

When another man went to attack Cas, Dean shoved his shoulder into his chest to stop him. “Leave him alone,” he growled. The men all glared at him but Dean knelt down to help Castiel up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and then they were pushing their way back to the house.

 

“You can’t keep him locked up forever Dean!” Gordon called.

 

Dean ignored them, shutting and locking the door, before walking Castiel over to sit in the kitchen, flipping the light on. He slowly turned to pull Castiel’s hands down away from his face so he could see the damage. They had cut Castiel’s face in a similar fashion to his own scar, but the cut was much deeper, puncturing his cheek entirely. Dean stared when he realized that one of Castiel’s eyes was bloodied shut, and he hoped that when it healed, he’d be able to see out of it.

 

“Did they cut you anywhere else?” Dean asked, as he mentally debated who would help them, if anyone.

 

Castiel slowly lifted his shirt, revealing the word _P I G_ carved into his chest. Dean flinched, allowing the shirt to stick back to Castiel’s chest, since it would at least act as a makeshift bandage. Cas refused to meet his gaze, as Dean went to warm up a rag to place on the wound. Dean tried not to feel any emotion attached to the situation but it wasn’t long before he felt sad and angry; Cas had done nothing to anyone, but he was now cut up like a piece of meat.

 

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he whispered. Telling Cas that he would probably be harassed and scarred was one thing, but dealing with the aftermath was much different. There were no serums for Castiel to be injected with, no skilled healers or doctors. Even he had received better care for his initial scars than Cas would out here. The biggest fear would be the worry of infection; if Castiel’s wounds festered and grew infected, Dean wasn’t sure they would be able to keep him alive.

 

The only person he could think to help was Ellen but she was in the Ghetto. He would have to take a trip there as soon as possible. Until then, cleaning the wound by hand would have to do. Castiel remained silent throughout the process, even though Dean knew it had to sting as he cleaned the wound, going for the first aid kit to try and at least put some gauze and tape on the side of his face. Their supplies were limited but they had _some_ stuff. He shouldn't have let Cas stay out all night... He should have invited Cas back into the house when it grew dark, but he had wanted to keep Lisa and Ben happy, and now he was hurt. 

 

“You’re gonna be okay. Alright?” Dean eased Castiel onto the couch. “Just, don’t go back outside. Stay here.” Still, Castiel said nothing, and Dean began to worry; usually, Cas was a chatterbox, but this had shut him up completely. “Cas…”

 

Words failed him.

 

What could he say? There seemed to be nothing left _to_ say. Things were different now, and either they would adjust or they wouldn’t. The tables were turned and nothing would ever really be the same. But Dean began to feel immense guilt for talking about Cas the way he had, where his friend could hear his every word. For making fun of Cas and for watching him struggle like a fish out of water. Maybe it had been subconscious payback for the times Cas had beaten him down in front of his friends or maybe he was just being petty. It didn’t matter anymore. 

 

“I’m going to get you help, Cas, don’t you worry.” Dean patted Castiel on the shoulder once. “It’ll be okay.”

 

Castiel still said nothing so Dean let him be, returning to the bedroom to pack up his stuff. The Ghetto was thirty miles away, and it would be a rough walk, since the terrain would not be as smooth, but he had to do it. He always made good on his word.

 

“Dean?” Lisa asked sleepily. “What’s going on?”

 

“I have to go to the Ghetto to see Ellen. Cas is hurt, real bad, we need medical equipment. I’ll be back hopefully by tonight. Alright?”

 

“He’s hurt?”

 

“Yeah, if you could keep an eye on him for me, please? Thanks Lis.” Dean leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. He saw the worry in her eyes but had no choice but to ignore it as he turned to leave. Castiel was still on the couch when he walked out, and Dean could only hope they would leave Lisa and Ben alone long enough for him to return to find Cas safe.

 

“Dean? The hell are you doing here?” Ellen asked as soon as she saw him standing in front of her door. “Don’t you know they’ve been trying to find you?”

 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Had to sneak in. I need your help Ellen… it’s Cas, he’s hurt real bad, and we don’t have anything to treat him. Please… I know it’s a lot to ask, but you always wanted out, right? This is your chance. Get Jo and take off with me.”

 

A frown knitted her brow and it worried her lips into a thin line before it relaxed away. “Okay. Give me half an hour. Where you gonna be waitin’ on us?”

 

“By my old house. There’s a spot in the fence that we can pass under. I’ll be in the tree lining, okay? If you’re not there in an hour I’m coming back to look for you.” When she nodded, Dean quickly ducked back into the crowd, keeping his head down. If someone recognized him and gave a shout, he’d be in deep shit. Hopefully, no one would turn him in, but even Imperfects didn’t trust each other.

 

Dean weaved through side streets and rundown buildings until he finally came to the burnt wreckage. At the back was a loose piece of fence and no one had ever bothered to fix it. Glancing around, Dean lifted it and slid under to wait in the trees where no one would see him. When some Guards came down the road, he fell back further into the shadows, tempted to climb up into the branches, but as long as he remained still, Dean figured he would be fine.

 

When the Guards left, Dean relaxed, pulling out his knife and a piece of wood that he had been whittling to pass the time. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep the thoughts of Castiel away. He may have been too hard on Cas, it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how to truly survive on his own, and it also wasn’t his fault that the world was so awful to some people, while being wonderful to others. In all honesty, Dean wasn’t sure who to blame, but he knew it wasn’t Cas.

 

There were times when Castiel had made him want to wring his neck, but most of the time, he was a good guy. Dean remembered when they had been seventeen, all of Castiel’s brothers and friends had been at the house for some type of party. He had attempted to join them, since he had no other duties. It had been a mistake.

 

_“What’s_ he _doing over here?” Michael sneered as soon as Dean walked over to the group. Castiel sat in the midst of his friends and family, looking paler than usual. “Castiel? Why is he here?”_

 

_“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted, ignoring Michael completely .Just because Cas had his friends and family over didn’t mean he couldn’t hang out, right? They were outside, it wasn’t as if they were in the house._

 

_“Go away,” Castiel whispered. “You don’t belong over here with us.”_

 

_Dean blinked, completely taken aback by Castiel’s behavior. Since when did Cas tell him to ‘_ go away’ _? “Go away?” he asked, repeating like a parrot. “Why?”_

 

_“Are you deaf?” Balthazar asked. “You don’t belong over here, you heard him. Get out of here.”_

 

_Dean ignored him, keeping his eyes on Cas. “Cas?”_

 

_Castiel looked away then, slowly turning to start talking to Balthazar as if he didn’t exist. The hurt stung to his core and Dean lingered a moment longer, waiting for Cas to say ‘_ just kidding _’ but the words never came. Instead, Dean watched as Castiel ignored him, as if he didn’t exist. Eventually, he turned and left them to their socialization, while he watched on in envy._

 

Those were the times he wanted to punch Cas right in his nose… but they weren’t Castiel’s fault. He had just been trying to fit in, so he wouldn’t be considered a pariah or worse, Shunned. But Cas _had_ been Shunned… for him. Castiel had done it for him because he hadn’t been able to hurt _him_. Cas had always considered them friends, even if at times, Dean did not.

 

Now, Castiel was hurt.

 

Scarred.

 

_It’s what you wanted. Remember?_

 

Dean flinched, angrily tossing the wood from his hands. It clattered against another tree, the noise startling in the quiet. He had wanted Cas to suffer, but not like this, never like this. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the trees. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

 

“You talkin’ to yourself, Winchester?” came Ellen’s voice, which also startled him. Damn. He had been so distracted he hadn’t even heard them walk up. Jo stood with her, large packs on their shoulders.

 

“You got the medical supplies?” he asked as he stood up.

 

Ellen nodded. “How bad is he?”

 

“Worse than me,” Dean replied as they started to walk.

 

Ellen whistled low. They both knew that that meant bad news. “Hope he makes it in time for us to get there.”

 

“He will,” Dean said firmly. “Cas is strong.”

 

At least, that was what Dean told himself.

 

 

 


	7. Castiel

Every Imperfect had a scar, and each scar had a story.

 

A story of violence.

Of heart break.

Of pain.

Of disobedience.

Of trying to stand up for what they believed in.

 

Perfects did not have scars. They were not supposed to. Every time a Perfect is hurt or when they start to show their age, a serum called Fenixx is injected directly into the blood system via hypodermic needle. It rejuvenates, heals, and restores any illness, wound, or sign of aging. Castiel had only used the serum a few times in his life; once when he had been ten years old and had fallen out of a tree and scraped his knees up poorly, as well as breaking his left arm. One injection later and he had been playing again in the span of an hour as if nothing had happened.

 

It had been used again when he was thirteen and he had experienced his first pimple. Injecting the serum right into his face had cleared up the acne and had prevented anymore from returning. At sixteen he had been given his first annual dose of Fenixx, which was given to all Perfects after being Chosen; it was then administered several times every five years. The dosage amount and frequency increased depending on age. At seventeen after being lashed in Dean’s place, it had been administered again.

 

There was no Fenixx in the Wilds.

 

No magical serum that made all of his problems go away. There was only pain and disease. The cloth that Dean had used to press over his face was sticking now, since the fibers had somehow bound themselves into his wound. The pain had dulled to a steady throb but he still could not open his left eye. The fear that he could be blind from the wound made his heart break into pieces; it was one thing to be a Shunned Perfect… it was another to be handicapped entirely.

 

The door to the house opened and Dean was coming inside, along with Ellen and Jo Harvelle. He wasn’t even sure what time it was or when Dean had left. How many hours had passed or was it days? Maybe it didn’t even matter.

 

“Cas,” Dean said as he slowly sat down beside him on the couch. “Ellen is gonna doctor you up, okay?”

 

_Why_ rested on his tongue but it would not leave his mouth. Bringing any words became extremely difficult, so he simply said nothing at all. He didn’t even cry or scream when Ellen had to cut the cloth from his face. She apologized to him several times, telling him that it would hurt, and she was sorry. It didn’t matter. Not really.

 

Dean left a few times, coming and going between the living room and to where Lisa and Ben had been hiding for most of the day. When Dean left for the third time, Castiel shut his eyes, and finally muttered, “Am I that intimidating?”

 

Ellen chuckled slightly. “Good to see that you still have some humor left in you.”

 

_Not for long_ he wanted to say. “You don’t have to do this,” was what he ended up whispering.

 

“No, but you would have done the same for me or Jo, so I figure I should lend a hand where I can.” Ellen turned to pick up a jar of green ointment. It smelled awful. “This stuff stinks to high Heaven but it’ll numb the pain and help fight any type of infection all in one application.”

 

“So, how long until they like me?” he asked bitterly. “Or do they have to lop off a body part first?”

 

Ellen’s face twisted into a mask of bitterness. She almost appeared offended on his behalf. “That’s the problem with coming out here. No one trusts anyone and they judge faster than the Perfects do. Sure, your family is full of awful people, but what family isn’t?”

 

Castiel looked away. “Your family isn’t responsible for others’ suffering.”

 

“No,” Ellen admitted. “But neither are you, honey.”

 

He shrugged and turned his eyes on the dark hallway where Dean had disappeared. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “pretty sure Dean could argue with you on that one.”

 

Ellen gripped his chin, gently turning his face to make him look at her. “Dean Winchester walked thirty miles to and back for you. He cares about you, and he’s worried about you. You two have a funny way of expressing it, but the friendship is still there, Castiel. Even if at times it can be strained.”

 

He sighed, slowly shutting his eyes, allowing her to start the process of sewing him up. It hurt and it made his eyes well up with tears, but he stayed silent the entire time. Did he want to scream and sob? Yes. But this was a whole new world he lived in. His mother was not here to make bad things go away. He was not to be babied anymore, he had to grow up quickly. Through the others’ eyes and words, the wool was being removed from his own, and he could finally see his world the same way others did.

 

No one liked his world. Only Perfects liked other Perfects, and even that was iffy.

 

“I don’t want to be a burden on him,” he muttered, his eyes turning to stare at the wall opposite them. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”

 

“You won’t be,” Ellen whispered. “You’ll get the hang of things. Suck it up. You can do it, no more woe-is-me shit. Got it?”

 

Castiel nodded. Once the stitches were done, Ellen put some more ointment on top of the wound and then she was putting bandages around the side of his face, carefully wrapping him up. The scar would be deep and ugly, his attackers had made sure of that. Now, he was just like them… but even that wasn’t true. The Shunned were even lower than the Imperfects. He was no more their equal than he had been before. The thought made him bitter and angry.

 

When Ellen finished, she bid him her farewell, and then she and Jo were leaving. “I’ll return in a few days to check up on you,” she promised before the door closed.

  
The silence rushed back once Ellen was gone, so Castiel shut his eyes in an attempt to combat the ringing in the emptiness. She had left some painkillers behind for him to take when needed. It was new, needing to take medication. When his head started to feel as if it were about to split in half, that was when Castiel decided to take a handful.

 

  

_“Did you have fun playing with that boy yesterday?”_

 

_Castiel looked up at his mother with an eager smile and a nod. He_ had _had fun yesterday with Dean… even if he had forgotten to tell Dean that he was going to be Perfect. As soon as the gates had been opened, the thought had left his mind, and they had played all day together, until his mother had come to pick him up. “I did!”_

 

_“Good.” She gave him a tight smile as they walked down the hallway hand in hand._

 

_The Solarium was a mystery to him, and he was excited that his mother was finally taking him to see where she worked. She told him that she had a special surprise waiting for him. If he could have vibrated in excitement, he would have. They sped up as they continued down the hall, and Castiel had to run to keep up, but he didn’t mind. He was here with his mother, that was what mattered._

 

_They came upon a white door, just like any other door in the Solarium. When it opened, a white room with a huge funny looking chair that looked more like a couch than a chair, was revealed. Anna, the woman who worked with his mother, stood in the middle. Above her was a huge machine that looked like a giant drill. It reminded him of the drill that Ellen used sometimes in the kitchen when she had to repair something._

 

_“What is that Mommy?” he asked as she set him up on the funny chair._

 

_“Lay back, Castiel.”_

 

_He did. “Mommy? What are we doing?”_

 

_“We’re playing a little game,” she replied, walking over to a panel of buttons._

 

_“How do we play?” he asked excitedly. New games were the best._

 

_“All you have to do is keep your eyes open and sit_ very _still, do you understand?”_

 

_“Okay,” he whispered. “Sounds kinda boring.”_

 

_“If you do those things, you’ll win the game, and Mommy will buy you an ice cream after.”_

 

_Oh_ , ice cream _. He_ loved _ice cream. Castiel remained still, trying to keep his eyes open, even as the machine drew closer and closer and-_

 

 

The dream, no the _nightmare_ , roused him from his sleep. Castiel sat up, panting in fear, trying to regain his footing. The dream… or the memory? It seemed too real to be a dream. And that machine seemed so _familiar_. He rubbed his uninjured eye, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in his stomach. The machine had done something to him… his _mother_ had done something to him. But what? He couldn’t remember… there was something wrong, the dream had stopped, but the more he thought on it, the blurrier it became.

 

What the hell was wrong with him?

 

He wanted to go to Dean but tomorrow he was being moved from Lisa’s home to a hut of his own on the edge of “town”. No one wanted him around so he would live off by himself, away from the others. At least no one would bother him, he hoped. Dean had promised that he would come visit him when he had time, but Castiel had a feeling that that would never happen.

 

Loneliness had always been a battle, even in his old world. Perfects were never really _friends_ with each other. Acquaintances and frenemies, yes, but never friends. Dean had been his friend… but when he thought back on it, their friendship had never been a good one. Not with their class difference. Not with his mother trying to quash any positive relationship they had. The biggest question he couldn’t ever answer was _why_? Why had his mother been so adamant on him and Dean not being friends?

 

He frowned.

 

Dean had been meant to be Perfect.

 

The realization slammed him hard in the chest. Where had that come from? Why was that suddenly something he remembered from some long forgotten childhood memory? There had been a meeting... he had seen it... and his mother had spoken on Dean, and how he was supposed to be Perfect. But Naomi hadn’t wanted Dean to be Perfect.

 

Castiel gasped and turned his eyes on the darkness in the hall. Did Dean know? Of course, he couldn’t _know_. Even he hadn’t known until just now. The dream. The _machine_. It had taken his memory away, but the machine had been new technology then. it hadn’t so much _wiped_ his memory as put up a wall that was slowly starting to crumble away. The machine that could rewrite DNA and a person’s memories had been used on him, in fact, he was the first probably to be used.

 

A sense of horror filled him.

 

Naomi Novak would go to any lengths to protect her secrets, but they were slowly starting to unravel. Castiel had a feeling he would not like what he found when the time came to dig deeper.

 

 

“It’s _him_ , it’s the Perfect.”

 

A chunk of mud, ice, and snow smacked him on the side of the face. He was just going to lunch with the rest of them, but he couldn’t walk a few feet without being pointed and jeered at. Castiel walked over to the line of people waiting for their meals, which was easier than cooking for himself… since he had no idea how. He kept his head ducked down, trying to keep to himself. Picking up a tray, Cas held it out for the food they were serving today.

 

However, no one moved to put food on his tray. Not even a piece of bread or a hunk of cheese. By the time the others reached the end of the line, he was still at the front, waiting. They continued to ignore him. “Excuse me?” he whispered. “I-um… May I please have something?”

 

The girl serving gave him a nasty look and then turned a smile on an older man who simply stepped around him. Castiel lowered his eyes to his empty plate and tray, feeling his stomach growl and grumble. It was no use, they weren’t going to feed him. Hands shaking, Castiel set the tray back down, before walking away. More snow and mud were thrown at him as he passed, insults screamed at him: _Perfect trash, murderer, Imperfect killer, useless, brat, cunt, bitch_.

 

He was called everything and anything deemed insulting.

 

The street, though mostly empty, didn’t feel safe, and Castiel walked faster, trying to appear as small as possible. He walked so quickly that he didn’t see Dean coming down the street until they were colliding right into one another.

 

“Whoa, whoa Cas,” Dean grasped onto his arms. “Watch where you’re going.”

 

“Sorry,” he whispered automatically. Looking Dean in the eye was too hard, and suddenly, Castiel knew what it was like to feel afraid. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dean replied, rubbing his arms before letting him go. “You okay?”

 

_No_ , he wanted to say. _I am not okay. I’m hungry and lonely._ “Yes, Dean,” he replied, finally looking up at him. “I’m just fine. Thank you for asking.”

 

“Okay.” Dean shrugged and stepped around him, continuing on his way. Castiel watched him go, wanting to call him back, wanting to tell Dean how alone he felt, but he didn’t. There was no sympathy to be found here, not that he deserved it either. Once more, Cas ducked his head down and continued along his way back to his empty home.

 

 

There was a knock on the door, which both surprised and startled him out of his sleepless reverie. How long had been staring at the wall trying not to feel hunger pangs? He wasn’t even sure of the time. It was dark and the knock came again before he had a chance to stand up and go to open the door. He expected it to be Dean, since who else would come visit him late at night like this?

 

But when he opened the door he found that it wasn’t Dean, – both disappointed and relieving – it was Lisa. He blinked and tilted his head to the side, taken aback by her presence. “Hello,” he finally managed to say, trying not to sound afraid, but his voice shook. She didn’t like him; in fact, she seemed to hate him.

 

“Castiel,” she replied, her voice clipped. “Dean wanted me to send you this.”

 

Castiel glanced down at her hands and saw she was carrying a dish full of food of some sort. “Oh-“ He blinked and quickly took the dish from her hands so she no longer had to hold it awkwardly. “Um… tell him I said thank you.”

 

Lisa took a step toward him, her eyes narrowed. Castiel took a step back. She took another and soon it became an awkward dance, until she said, “Stay away from Dean, Castiel.”

 

He wasn’t really sure what she meant by that but she was gone so he didn’t have a chance to ask. _Stay away from Dean_. Theoretically, that should be an easy task – it wasn’t like Dean would come and visit him that often, and it wasn’t as if he were welcome in Lisa’s home, so he couldn’t exactly go and visit them either. The door shut and Castiel turned to carry the dish back to the kitchen, which was the only room with any furniture. He set the food down and removed the lid; it was some sort of casserole, he didn’t care, he just dug in.

 

The hunger pangs eased away with each bite and Castiel practically groaned with orgasmic joy as he ate about half of the food in one sitting. His stomach screamed at him to stop but the fear that he would not be eating again for a long time was very real. The drugs would help, he had noticed that they had curbed his appetite earlier, but what happened when he ran out of those? He would have to go out to the Ghetto to find more since Eden was probably not a good choice.

 

Of course, he had no idea how to _get_ to the Ghetto…

 

There were a lot of things he didn’t know how to do. He was going to have to learn on his own since there was no Imperfect Guru to teach him how to do everything. Luckily, Castiel had found that he was a quick learner to just about anything he put his mind to. Once the food was gone, Castiel laid down on the living room floor to stare up at the dark ceiling, feeling sleep tug at his eyelids… but he didn’t want to sleep.

 

If he slept then he would start remembering.

 

If he remembered then he wouldn’t want to look Dean in the eye ever again.

 

It had taken _this_ to make him open his eyes, to make him see what he had done to Dean. He blamed himself so thoroughly for Dean’s strife – if only he had stood up for Dean _more_ or if he had simply told his mother _no_ now and again. The only person left to blame was himself. And Dean was right, he did not truly know suffering until now, now, that he was scarred and broken.

 

A sigh escaped him as his eyes began to close on their own against his will.

 

The last thought on his mind was that he loved Dean – he _loved_ Dean and he wasn’t even sure how he knew that or why it came to mind right then.

 

_“When I grow up, I’m gonna be a Perfect, and I’m gonna get my family out of the Ghetto,” Dean swore as he swung on Castiel’s swing. It hung on the maple tree in the backyard, closest to the angel statue._

_“Yeah?” Castiel asked where he sat on the ground watching his friend swing back and forth. They had been friends for years; they were both twelve, ready to face the reality of puberty soon. Dean’s voice cracked sometimes, as it fought to grow deeper. “How are you gonna do that?”_

_“I’ll name them my Imperfects, and we can live in a nice house in Eden, and we can live happily ever after,_ duh _,” Dean supplied, as if that were the most obvious answer._

_“Oh.”_

_“Yeah,_ oh _.” Dean leapt from the swing, landing in front of him, skidding to a stop, and making him flinch in fear of being crushed. Dean laughed, seemingly finding his almost death hilarious. “Made you flinch.”_

_“Jerk,” Castiel spat._

_Dean laughed more. “Come on, let’s go take a walk or something. I’m bored. I don’t wanna wait here all day.”_

_“I’m not allowed to leave,” Castiel replied._

_“What do you mean, ‘you’re not allowed to leave’?” Dean asked. “It’s your house, can’t you do what you want?”_

_“No.”_

_“Weird. Wanna play inside then?”_

_“Sure.” Castiel stood up and took Dean by the hand to pull him in through the back of the house to go up to his room. They passed Ellen along the way, who snapped at them for dragging in dust and dirt, but they both waved her off as they took the back staircase up to the second floor. Castiel’s room was at the end of the hallway, the one with the large double window that overlooked the driveway._

_“I wish my room was this cool,” Dean said as they headed inside, which was what he always said when entering the bedroom._

_“What’s your room like?” Castiel went to sit on his bed, crossing his legs as he did._

_Dean plopped down on the floor in front of him, his fingers pressing against the plush carpet. “Well, for starters, we don’t got carpet in our house, not even in the bedrooms.”_

_He gasped. “You don’t?”_

_“Nope. We don’t got no fancy hardwood either… We’ve got like… dirt and rotting wood in our house. I don’t got a bed either. I mean- I do, but, Sam and I are both too big to fit in it, so I sleep on the floor.”_

_Castiel gasped again, his hands flying to his mouth in utter horror. Dean didn’t have a bed? They didn’t have_ carpet _? What kind of house were they_ living _in? “I’m so sorry…” These things were so standard for him, so normal, he couldn’t imagine living without any of the things he took for granted._

_Dean shrugged and picked at the hem of his shirt. “You gots lots of stuff I don’t.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“Toys… Carpet… A bed… Food-“_

_Castiel snorted in disbelief. “You’ve gotta have_ food _. Everyone has food.”_

_Dean looked up at him, suddenly very serious, his eyes narrowing, and his lips set in a tight line. He didn’t say anything at all, he just stared at Castiel, his twelve year old face seeming older than before. The truth hung in the air between them: the Winchesters didn’t have a lot of food, if any, at home, while the Novaks had so much food they didn’t know what to do with half of it._

_Castiel withdrew his gaze from Dean, turning to stare at the white blanke ton his bed. “So…” he whispered. “You wanna take some food home with you?”_

_Dean’s eyes grew wide and his mouth turned into an ‘o’ shape. “Really?” he gasped._

_“Yeah…”_

_“That’d be_ awesome _!”_

_Castiel smiled, standing up once again, and offering his hand. Dean took it and together they made their way back down to the kitchen, where Castiel set his mind to packing up some food for the Winchester family. Surely, they didn’t need_ all _of this food. Ellen frowned at them but didn’t question them too much, thinking they were just packing up snacks, which was normal. However, when it was time for Dean to leave, his mother waiting on the other side of the gate, Castiel walked Dean toward the front of the house. His mother saw them, her eyes narrowing at the sight._

_“And_ where _do you think you are going with that?” she asked as soon as she saw Dean’s arms laden with the food Castiel had given him._

_“Home,” Dean replied. “My Mama is waiting for me-“_

_“That is our food-“ Naomi snapped._

_“I gave it to him, Mother,” Castiel assured her. “They don’t have lots of food at home, and we don’t need all that food.” He smiled up at her, trying to feel proud of his good deed._

_But, Naomi wasn’t smiling, and what she did next stunned them both. She raised her hand and smacked Castiel hard across the face. “That food will be taken out of your allowance, young man, do you hear me?”_

_Dean was running out of the house to escape Naomi’s wrath, leaving Castiel alone with her. He flinched and touched his face in surprise; she had never hit him before. Not even to spank him if he had misbehaved. “But Mother-“_

_She smacked him again._

_Castiel felt tears come to his eyes and he started to cry. She yelled at him to take his sniveling behind upstairs to his room, she didn’t want to see his crocodile tears, but they weren’t fake tears. They were real, and Castiel hurried upstairs to lock himself in his room. He went to the window, to see if Dean was still there, but he could just make out Dean and his blonde mother walking down the street; she was now helping him carry the food._

_Castiel wiped his eyes and went to lie on his bed, curling up on his side. Dean’s mother hugged Dean and kissed him and told him that she loved him. Dean’s mother also took care of her children; Dean had told him all kinds of stories about her… but his mother did none of those things. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he remembered the last time his mother had said the words, “_ I love you _” to him. He couldn’t recall he last hug or kiss… maybe he had never been hugged or kissed. The idea that this could be true, made him hug his stuffed bear as hard as possible, fighting more tears._

I want to be Imperfect _, he thought,_ I want to be loved like Dean.

 

 


	8. Dean

Dean stared up at the ceiling, his eyes defocusing and focusing now and again. Two weeks ago Castiel had moved out of Lisa’s home and been placed in his own hut; it was further away from the others, and Dean had promised Cas no one would bother him, and since he had threatened anyone who _did_ bother Cas, Dean hoped no one would. Promising Cas that he would visit often had been stupid because he hadn’t made good on his promise yet; mainly because after Cas had gone, he and Lisa had taken all of the opportunities they could to have sex.

 

With Ben in the house, it was a hell of a lot harder than they had first imagined.

 

But, they made it work, and Lisa kept threatening him with becoming pregnant again if he didn’t wear a condom. _Those_ were surprisingly not hard to come by, and Dean wasn’t really sure _why_ (of course, he didn’t really want to know why either). But no matter how many times he had sex with Lisa, the thoughts of Castiel would not leave his mind. They could _be_ together now, since Castiel was no longer considered a Perfect… but he was with Lisa and he couldn’t bring himself to end what they had going. Even if every day passed and he felt less and less interested in her, his mind wandering to Cas instead.

 

Which was just _stupid_.

 

No one would forgive him if he hooked up with Cas. No one would _trust_ him again if he hooked up with Cas. This realization was also what kept him away from Castiel’s hut and from hooking up with him. Plus, he was not a cheater. His father had raised him better than that.

 

“Dean,” Lisa called from the kitchen.

 

He sighed as he slowly eased himself up out of bed, walking down the hallway stiffly. God, he would almost _kill_ for the Novak’s cot back; the bed he slept on with Lisa was no more than some wooden planks stacked on cement blocks, and pillowed with some blankets. It was by no means comfortable. “Yeah?” he asked as he came around the corner.

 

There was a blonde woman sitting at their table that he did not recognize. Lisa was handing her a mug full of coffee or tea, he wasn’t sure which. She glanced at him, looking nervous. “Dean, this is Ruby… She’s the new leader of the Fireflies.”

 

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. In all of the drama surrounding Cas and the Novaks, he had forgotten all about the reason he had left in the first place. “Shit,” he gasped. “I completely forgot. I was wanting to look for you, and to help out where I could.”

 

“We figured as much,” Ruby said, taking a sip of the drink Lisa had given her. “What we don’t know is if you know what happened to Sam.”

 

“No,” he whispered. “I don’t.”

 

“We do,” she replied heavily.

 

“What?” he gasped.

 

Ruby set the mug down, folding her hands together slowly. “Sam is being held in the Solarium’s basement. He is what they call a Natural.”

 

“What the hell is that?”

 

“The Fenixx serum is running low,” Ruby explained. “It’s why less and less Perfects are being named, because they’re running out of the serum that keeps them perfect. Over the years, they have been trying to find a Natural, which is when a Perfect is _naturally_ born perfect. They don’t need Fenixx to stay that way… your brother is a Natural, and they’re using his blood and DNA to make more serum.”

 

Dean blinked and stammered for a moment or two. “Wait-... _how_ do you know this?”

 

“Frank Devereux is one of us. He’s been informing us for years on what goes on in that place. Cadium was not always like this, you know. In fact, we weren’t even always _Cadium_. We were something else, something long forgotten, but Naomi Novak and her family wants to take over our world, and so far, she’s done a pretty good job. But it’s time to end her madness.” Ruby leaned forward, looking him in the eye. “We hear that you have a Perfect living here, Shunned, and that he is also a Novak.”

 

“You can’t hurt him,” Dean snarled automatically. They could hurt the other Novaks for all he cared, but not Cas.

 

“We don’t want to hurt him,” Ruby said, leaning back as if he had offended her. “We want to his help. If anyone knows anything about the Solarium and how its defenses work, he will.”

 

“Do you really think he’ll help you?”

 

Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know, do you think he will?”

 

Dean wanted to say _yes, of course he will_ , but he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

 

“With or without his help, we are one hundred thousand strong, and there are only three thousand Perfects. Less than five hundred Guards. We outnumber them ten to one, if not more than that. The question is Dean, do _you_ want to help? Do you want to finish what your parents started?”

 

Dean slowly turned his eyes to the window, where he could see Ben playing in the backyard with other children. What he wanted, more than anything, was for Ben to live a comfortable life, along with the other children that were being denied the luxury. And, he wanted to save Sam. “I want to save my brother,” he replied, moving his eyes back to Ruby.

 

She nodded. “Then let’s get started.”

 

 

 

“We need your help, Cas. This is important, possibly the most important thing you could ever do. You want people to like you? Well, this may be your ticket to that very wish.” Dean stared at the back of Castiel’s head as he continued to sit on his floor. Castiel’s home was mostly empty, since no one wanted to help him in finding or claiming furniture. Even he hadn’t had the time. “Cas, please, we need your help.”

 

Castiel finally turned to look at him, and Dean flinched at the wound that was starting to really heal. It was by far uglier than his own. “You want me to help you tear my own family down?”

 

“Look, it’s going to happen whether you help or not, it would just go quicker if you give us the information we need. Please.” Dean gestured around helplessly. “You want to live like this the rest of your life? In squalor and shit and with nothing at all?”

 

Castiel finally stood, his eyes cold. “I will not help you tear my own family down like animals.”

 

“They’re not your family anymore, Cas, remember?” he snapped back snidely. “Your mother said so herself.”

 

The look he received in return was enough to kill a man, if the saying were true. “I am aware of what she said, and of what she has done, but she is _still_ my mother, and I will not have a hand in this. If you want to take it down, you will not have my help.”

 

“I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t help! You’re a spineless, weak, whiny brat! This is life altering importance, and you could give a fuck less. I knew you would do this! Go _fuck_ yourself, Cas! You never wanted to help me or anyone else. Just yourself.” Dean turned and walked back outside before he hauled off and shot Cas in the chest in rage.

 

Castiel followed him, which was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. “Dean, you cannot be _serious_. I have done so much to help you! _So_ much!”

 

“Not enough,” Dean growled as he continued to storm way. They would tear it all down, without Castiel’s help. The way Naomi Novak would die was already planned out in his head, he could see it plain as day, just like on a television screen.

 

“What do you _mean_ he won’t help?”

 

Dean shrugged. “That’s what I mean. He won’t help.”

 

Lisa scoffed and Ruby turned to speak with some other members of the fireflies that were with her. Dean looked away, glaring into space. These people _had_ Sam, and he was sick and tired of Naomi Novak ruining his life. She would not get away with this; she would not get away with keeping his brother under lock and key. He was going to rue the day she decided to take Sam and use him like an animal.

 

“We can do this without Castiel’s help,” Ruby’s voice returned to his ears. He turned questioning eyes back on her, not saying a word. She continued, “The Solarium has weak points. The basement included. If we can start there, then we can get Sam without a hitch.”

 

“Look, I don’t care _what_ you do,” Dean replied. “As long as Sam isn’t hurt in the process, you can light the whole building on fire for all I care.”

 

Ruby smirked. “Metaphorical fire,” she told him. “We may still need the Solarium’s resources, and it’d be be a waist to just light the whole building on fire.”

 

“When do we leave?” Dean asked, since the only thing he cared about in the moment was Sam. If were up to him, they would have left already, but it wasn’t so, they didn't.  

 

“Soon,” was all she said, so Dean gave up and walked away to sit alone and have his own thoughts. When it was time to go, he would be ready, but until then, he needed to be alone. It was taking all of his power to not run back to Castiel’s house and throttle him until he agreed to help. Cas was fucking _worthless_ to them at this point.

 

Dean sighed, watching his breath come out in a cold puff.

 

_“You look like a dragon!!!” Sam exclaimed with a giggle_. _“Do it again!”_

 

_Dean blew more air from his lungs, allowing the puffs to float toward Sammy, who kept on giggling. He smiled from ear to ear, glad to make his little brother happy. Even when their lives had turned less and less happy over the months. Sometimes, he heard his parents arguing about him, about how he would be named Perfect._

 

_“He’ll be named Perfect, Mary, I just know he will,” his father would say._

 

_“John, he’s the son of two Imperfects,” she would whisper in return,. They both always thought he couldn’t hear them when he could. “He won’t be named Perfect. Stop getting your hopes up.”_

 

_“I don’t know,” John would reply._

 

_“I think he’s Perfect,” Mary would admit. “But I don’t think they will see it that way. Why are you so certain?”_

 

_There was always a long pause before John would answer, his voice more solemn than before, “Because he has to.”_

 

Dean angrily kicked an abandoned can out of his way, wanting to scream to the heavens. His father had placed this burden on his shoulders at such a young age and he had _failed_ them. He had failed his entire family, but he would make it up to them now. His parents’ deaths would be avenged and Sam could be saved. He would make it right.

 

 

 


	9. Epilogue

The world kept going in and out in such a fuzzy but stable beat. One moment, he would be awake, and the next, he would be falling asleep again. There were so many needles and wires hooked up to his body, he couldn’t even keep track of what was going on. Not that anyone would tell him anything either. Sam opened his eyes slowly from being so tired, his vision focusing and defocusing several times before the scene unraveling made sense.

 

There were alarms going off.

 

One of the nurses who tended to him dropped dead, blood splattering around the room. It stood out so starkly against the white. It looked fake. He turned his eyes onto the man who had shot the nurse, and ti took him a moment to recognize him… Sam had not seen his older brother in over ten years. He was no longer that soft faced boy, but a gaunt, and hard faced _man_ , but that was most definitely _Dean_.

 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean greeted with a small smile. “You ready to get out of here?”

 

Sam blinked a few times in surprise. Was it really over? It couldn’t be over. No, Sam could see Guards coming. He shut his eyes before he could see red.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes part one of the series.


End file.
